The Grand Conclusion

So it only took me... say... four and a half years to come upon what I shall now call The Grand Conclusion (cue the trumpets). Staring me in the face this whole time was the simple answer to my most innate and inner question yearning to be solved multiple times a day.

(cue more trumpets)

My house... my dwelling place... my peaceful abode... well it's going to be messy almost always. And I am just going to have to be ok with that.

SIGH

There you have it.

6am this morning... all sleeping peacefully in their beds, all things silently sitting in their places, toys picked up, kitchen clean, toilets flushed, laundry folded, no strange smells coming from anywhere.

6:15am and the little Tasmanian devil yells to all that he has awakened. An hour later (and already one clean up later done by my wonderful husband before he went to work) and things have started to appear in disarray.

9:00am having escaped the downstairs toy pile-up and half cleaned breakfast dishes I was attempting to

get dressed when I heard a huge crash in Nolan's room. The sound of multiple toys colliding together sent chills down my spine. The laughter that immediately followed allowed me to continue dressing and postpone the inevitable survey of damage.

9:15am I came out of the bathroom to see ALL of the pillows we owned surrounding Nolan in the
middle of my bedroom. He was gleefully allowing his sister to pile them around him and the more she added the more he cheered.

It was in that moment where I stopped the words that were about to leave my lips... the words that would have put a damper to their fun and would have been something along the lines of "what are you do... you have to clean... what the... why do I even...what's the point in... ahhhh." Instead I took a deep breath and The Grand Conclusion hit me in the face.

The kids were having fun... the cleaning would eventually happen... my world was ok with, or HAD to be ok with, mess. I decided to let their fun outweigh my sense of urgency to put every pillow back in its place. There are more important things in life and in these moments of little kid chaos than to constantly keep a straightened up home.

And so here I sit... staring at a mess... too tired to get up and clean it. And even if I did nap time will come to an end and the mess would be back again in two seconds flat. So I guess it's time to embrace the new me... the me who can go to sleep with the family room littered with toys, dishes in the sink and a less then perfect smell in the house. This season is sure to end and I don't want to look back on it remembering all the cleaning I did, but instead remembering the giggles and joy that can only come from two adorable chubby cheeked little kids.

I Blame Yo Yo Ma

Ah nostalgia... how I love you... how I hate you!

You often catch me by surprise, capturing my mind by the beauty of a memory. Toying with me as I remember who I used to be, and implanting longing to be that person again. You make me feel the highs that I once felt from my former self, the jubilation of a season that is past.

Then the loathing I have for you seeps like something sour that is meant to be sweet. I'm consumed with sadness for I can not experience those moments again. I feel anger towards myself for allowing myself to miss the past.

This bundle of feelings... this brain that will not cease to just be. This all came about today because of
Yo Yo Ma... I blame him!

The kids were strangely quiet and serene while I prepared dinner, allowing me to skip the normal Frozen soundtrack in lieu of something a little more peaceful... I decided on Yo Yo Ma. From the first notes of the cello I was immediately transported away from my vegetable chopping and mama-being, to a time when classical music, the violin, being an artist... they defined who I was. All the feelings about who I was then, and all of the work I put towards being that person settled over me. I remembered the camaraderie of other like minded young people, the friendships formed out of loving the same thing. I remembered the moment I watched Yo Yo Ma play... the opportunity to meet him... the anxiety that kept me from meeting him.... then the annoyance at my teenage self for skipping such an amazing opportunity.

Silly... still being mad at myself for something that happened almost twenty years ago. Annoying how everything in my life has to be a learning experience... which all seems to relate to now and understanding the role anxiety has played in my growth. With the anger towards my young self starting to overtake me along with the frustration and sadness of missing such a wonderful season in my life, I noticed the squash I had been chopping was now mush....

And then the age old question... the nagging, annoying question that nostalgia grabs from my very being again and again and again and again hit me like a ton of bricks... "WHAT WAS THE POINT OF ALL THAT!?" Look at who I am today... I'm wearing gym clothes covered in mashed banana and crusty lunch. I am referee, cook, cleaner, bather, nurse, magician, entertainer to two little kids who enjoy pouncing on me all day. Some days I go hours without speaking to another human being over that age of 4. What of my schooling? What of my work experience? What of my talents and gifts? Am I losing brain-watts every moment I try to teach my son to say "woof goes the dog?"

Obviously the answer is no...

No I'm not losing brain-power. And yes there was a point for my life before today. I am who I am because this is who I chose to be right now. Who I was is still in there, who I will be is in there too, and all of that makes the beautiful person I am today.

The past was a tremendous gift, but the present is so much more. Being a stay at home mom can sometimes blind me with loneliness, isolation, and longing to be more than, but the thing is I am SO much more than I can ever imagine I could be.

And with that I will end this post. To ponder on... to think on... you are SO much more than. In whatever you do, you were created in His image, in His likeness and you are special.

Darn nostalgia.