Remember that "mess" that I mentioned in yesterday's post... sometimes it's emotional, and sometimes it's a physical... and lets just say, lately... I've been surrounded by it! Seriously, I don't know where my days go half the time.. Piles upon piles of laundry... toys everywhere (even minutes after Charlotte just cleaned up)... cluttered countertops... and then there's myself... oh dear, I'm lucky if I'm out of my pajamas before noon. But you know what, it's a season. We are spending so much time outside and away from the house, that it's just natural for it to be neglected a bit. I can't help but finish projects during the day (like painting our huge chalkboard, or working on
our office)... I can't help but see my girls play together... and want to play with them...
so I ignore the laundry (or at least get to it once the kids go to bed)...
so I ignore those countertops (there's always tomorrow)...
so I ignore the toys on the floor (they will just get played with over and over again)...
I will try and remember to "Let Go" and not get all control freak on my house... and I'll enjoy the mess... because one day when I'm old and grey, I'd much rather remember the playtime with my littles, than folding each and every piece of laundry.
I hate the guilt that comes from going outside to play when your house looks crazy. Here's a poem I love. It always puts things in perspective.
ReplyDeleteMother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
I LOVE this Josie!!! Great little poem... perfect for my heart.
DeleteI feel ya.
ReplyDeleteWe've been spending hours outside lately and the laundry and house have been neglected. I have so much to do today to catch up. We will see how that goes.
have a great catch up day :)
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