As a mother, there have been many things over the past 12.5 years that I have learned that I never anticipated before having children. There are the obvious adages that everyone tells you: your love for your kids will surpass anything you could have imaged, maintaining total control will no longer be an option, all children are different, every day brings something new and exciting, expect the unexpected. The list could go on for days, and all of these pearls of wisdom ring true. Along the way, it is not these things that resonate the loudest with me, but the other aspects of parenthood and rearing children that somehow seamlessly become a part of every day life. Habits form--both good and bad--that define your family unit and make it uniquely your own.
In our family, relaxing and embracing the fun in life are just parts of our fiber. We are fond of making silly faces at each other both at appropriate moments and not so appropriate moments (across the pew at church). We play music loudly and dance without any concern for how adept we are as dancers (mommy, not so much). We share everything openly with one another and take the time to listen to the trials and tribulations of one another, offering love and community without hesitation. Mark and I have never, and will never be, too adult to let loose and enjoy life both with and in front of our children (kissing and hugging results in loud proclamations of "Ewww....romance!"). Our family culture embraces a sense of relaxation and not "sweating the small stuff." This has brought with it so many benefits for all of us that the not so savory parts of embracing a laid back lifestyle have become accepted daily pests.
The biggest pesty side effect of our family mantra is currently the odd items that are left in the oddest of places. I did an inventory of my purse last year when it was starting to literally weight heavily on my shoulders, an inventory that produced (from within ONE handbag) two rusty screws that my son had found with his metal detector, an eclectic assortment of cherished rocks and shells from God knows where, a note from my daughter reminding me what kind of sandwich to put in her lunch, a tiny ballerina, ten Littlest Pet Shop animals, a used bandaid, and a clean pair of princess panties. At some point, all of my children felt that the best place to store these items was in mommy's purse, so I was blessed to be the one to find proper homes (the trash bin included) for all of these misfit items. On a weekly basis I find a myriad of oddities in my car: empty bags of candy, rogue socks, pages from a coloring book, stickers, soccer balls, DVDs, hair bands...you name it. I have tried everything to enforce putting things where they belong consistently, yet I still find things shoved in places that one of my little humans deemed at the time to be "just right." Sometimes I curse under my breath as I walk around putting things where they belong, and sometimes I just smile and wonder who else can see a snapshot of what their children did that afternoon by evaluating the scattering of toys and other items throughout the places they spent their time? This annoyance brings with it a sense of understanding for my children that a perfectly tidy house and car would probably not reflect as clearly.
I didn't sleep well last night. No matter how much I tossed and turned and readjusted my pillows, I just felt like the Princess and the Pea. I woke up with a neck crick and a sense of crankiness that I masked through gulps of diet coke as I went through my morning routine--my grossly outnumbered morning routine with three sluggish kids up against one sluggish mommy. The four of us left the house in a hurry of partly kept hairdos and various states of undress (two kids were feverishly putting shoes on in the car and one was brushing her hair), but we made it to school with two minutes to spare.
After I got home and began my morning cleaning routine, I discovered the root of my aching neck. While I was making my bed and rearranging my pillows, I uncovered the culprit wedged ever so awkwardly under my pillows: Captain Underpants, the book that Macey had told me she "put away" before I carried her to bed. Despite my annoyance at my restless night of sleep, I smiled as the image of my sweet Macey reading so expressively to me the night before came flooding into my mind. I'm not sure why she felt that tucking her book under my pillow was the "place that it belonged", but once again I was reminded how lucky I am to have my children in my life despite their idiosyncrasies. I am happy that my children feel just at home in every inch of our house as I do even if that means that last night I had the unforeseen chance to sleep with Captain Underpants.
I thought about putting the book on her bookshelf but then realized that she wouldn't be able to find it when she wants to read more if it to me again tonight. Instead, I tucked it back under my pillow, just where it belongs.
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