Last week I was home 4 days in a row with the kids. Four days. We didn't even leave the house for 3 of them. Finally, on the fourth day, I told the boys to pack it up because we were going to Sonic. I didn't care about calories or money or the heat or anything else. I was at my breaking point. I had to get out! I had been locked away in a world of Thomas and Friends all over my living room and all the way down the hall, feeding Evan at his every whim, and watching kids movies over and over again. I had had enough.
When we got out of the car from our all-too-short trip to Sonic, Zach asked, "Mom, what are those boxes up on top of the silver cabinet?"
"I'm really not sure what's in them. They're from Granny-mom's (my mom's) house. I'm sure it's some of my old stuff."
Then he asked, "What kind of toys did you have?"
"I had Barbies!" I answered proudly. And boy, did I have Barbies! I had a ton of them plus their clothes and itty-bitty shoes that inevitably got lost. I had the Dream House. I had a RV, Corvette convertible, and a t-top Firebird. I had the "Day to Night" center that had an office on one side and a bedroom on the other. I had the bride Barbie and the groom Ken, and a million weddings were held in my playroom. I had it all!
And then I looked at my living room that had the entire Island of Sodor in it. Suddenly, I had a flashback of my mother fussing at me about my toys being in the living room. What she said to me that day is ingrained in my memory, and it's not a good one. Then I remembered how I had been bemoaning all of my boys' toys being in the living room all week and how it was driving me crazy. I had yet to say anything, but a day or two before, I had passive-aggressively put some things away, hoping they would catch the hint. But they didn't. Was my need for cleanliness worth making a fuss over?
I heard the Lord speaking to me in my spirit, "This is no different than you with your Barbies in the living room. One day, the trains will be gone, and you will wish for these days again."
You see, after my mother passed away in 2010, we found all of my Barbies in the attic of my childhood home, along with all of the accessories. I had no idea they were still there! I looked through all of it, remembering all of the fun I had with them. I found things I had forgotten about. But Stewart and I only had Zach at the time, and we were still undecided on whether or not we were going to have another baby. Our house was filled the gills as it was. There was no way we could keep my toys. So we had to get rid of them. It hurt me to no end, but I knew there was no way we could keep them. We were in the process of cleaning out my mother's 4 bedroom house so we could sell it, and we knew we would already be storing things that we had no idea what we'd ever do with (like family pictures and family Bibles). The toys had to go. (Side note: Not long after that, Toy Story 3 came out. Stewart and I went to see it by ourselves, and we bawled like small children because we had just gotten rid of my childhood basically.)
So that day I resolved to let go of my desire for my house to be perfect. I let go of my resentment of all things Thomas and Friends (and trains in general). I decided to enjoy it. One day, Zach is going to grow out of his train phase, and all of this will disappear. He may pull the trains out of the attic one last time before it goes to Goodwill. Or he may share it with his son. But these days of childhood are short. I need to relish in it. And in the immortal words of Queen Elsa, I need to let it go - let go of my need for perfection and let them be little while they are.
When we got out of the car from our all-too-short trip to Sonic, Zach asked, "Mom, what are those boxes up on top of the silver cabinet?"
"I'm really not sure what's in them. They're from Granny-mom's (my mom's) house. I'm sure it's some of my old stuff."
Then he asked, "What kind of toys did you have?"
"I had Barbies!" I answered proudly. And boy, did I have Barbies! I had a ton of them plus their clothes and itty-bitty shoes that inevitably got lost. I had the Dream House. I had a RV, Corvette convertible, and a t-top Firebird. I had the "Day to Night" center that had an office on one side and a bedroom on the other. I had the bride Barbie and the groom Ken, and a million weddings were held in my playroom. I had it all!
And then I looked at my living room that had the entire Island of Sodor in it. Suddenly, I had a flashback of my mother fussing at me about my toys being in the living room. What she said to me that day is ingrained in my memory, and it's not a good one. Then I remembered how I had been bemoaning all of my boys' toys being in the living room all week and how it was driving me crazy. I had yet to say anything, but a day or two before, I had passive-aggressively put some things away, hoping they would catch the hint. But they didn't. Was my need for cleanliness worth making a fuss over?
I heard the Lord speaking to me in my spirit, "This is no different than you with your Barbies in the living room. One day, the trains will be gone, and you will wish for these days again."
You see, after my mother passed away in 2010, we found all of my Barbies in the attic of my childhood home, along with all of the accessories. I had no idea they were still there! I looked through all of it, remembering all of the fun I had with them. I found things I had forgotten about. But Stewart and I only had Zach at the time, and we were still undecided on whether or not we were going to have another baby. Our house was filled the gills as it was. There was no way we could keep my toys. So we had to get rid of them. It hurt me to no end, but I knew there was no way we could keep them. We were in the process of cleaning out my mother's 4 bedroom house so we could sell it, and we knew we would already be storing things that we had no idea what we'd ever do with (like family pictures and family Bibles). The toys had to go. (Side note: Not long after that, Toy Story 3 came out. Stewart and I went to see it by ourselves, and we bawled like small children because we had just gotten rid of my childhood basically.)
So that day I resolved to let go of my desire for my house to be perfect. I let go of my resentment of all things Thomas and Friends (and trains in general). I decided to enjoy it. One day, Zach is going to grow out of his train phase, and all of this will disappear. He may pull the trains out of the attic one last time before it goes to Goodwill. Or he may share it with his son. But these days of childhood are short. I need to relish in it. And in the immortal words of Queen Elsa, I need to let it go - let go of my need for perfection and let them be little while they are.
 |
| The Island of Sodor and other various things that ended up down the hall and in the living room. This is life with boys. |
Every parent needs to read this! And stop beating themselves up for letting their kids be kids! I'll take a messy house full of life and love over an empty clean one any day!
ReplyDelete