Blessings

Shoes piled on the counter, clothes outgrown beside them, a booster seat in the corner, toys lining the walls, books overflowing the bookcase, sippy cups taking over the fridge, the same fridge being swallowed by artwork/toys/schedules....tonight I looked at it all and sighed heavily. I stood feeling as always the compulsion to tidy, to straighten, to sort. Some days just looking at my counters gives me a headache. Clean counters make me feel better. Did I mention that I can upon occasion be compulsive?

However, as I stood thinking where to start, I had a vision. Maybe it was the pot of coffee I'dconsumed by myself, but suddenly, everything was different. For a split second, the clutter didn't bother me. For a moment, all I saw was blessings.

My children spill over into everything. Between their art, their toys, their clothes, their bodies, they infiltrate my entire household. They have no notion of personal space. How many times have I awoken to feel little bodies pressed tight against my side? Every time my 3 yr old awakens from his nap, he heads for Mommy like a homing beacon. He doesn't want to talk; he wants to snuggle. After a time, he rejoins the world of a 3 yr. old boy--he rough houses, kicks/throws balls, jumps on the couch, fights with his sister but in between the sleeping and the wide awake, he finds comfort in me. I anchor him. Nothing can bother him--not thunder, not his siblings, not anything--so long as he's with me. I don't have to do anything but be.

Some day, sooner than I'd like, they'll move out of my personal orbit. Caitlin at 6 already veers away on occasion. But for now, I'll enjoy being the sun. I'll enjoy the chaos, the toys, the shoes, the pajamas with capes, the masterpieces taped to my wall, the endless repetitions of Goodnight Moon.

Blessings. Messy, cluttered, vibrant, warm, sticky blessings.