Why is this house such a mess?

Why is this house such a mess?

Because I need to return those shoes. Because I’ve needed to return those shoes for a month. Because—by some strange alchemy—those shoes in their cardboard box have been in our bedroom for so long they’ve turned into a piece of furniture we drape blankets on.

Because I’m a little tired. Because I’m a little lost. Because I was completely out of effs to give by the moment bedtime devolved into a “marker fight.”

Because these children shed socks and hoodies like molting birds. Because these children eat syrupy pancakes with their hands. Because these children believe it is a vicious affront to be asked to “eat over your plate” when they would rather bounce on one leg by the kitchen slider and peel the frosting off a chocolate-covered pretzel.

Because we (’re supposed to) value creativity. Because we (’re supposed to) value play. Because yesterday they overflowed the bathroom sink while running a “super stuffie bath shop” and all I could think to say was, “Please use Panda to mop that up.”

Because real people live here. Because we sometimes wear “busy” like a badge of honor. Because a therapist once told me that my connections with actual humans are more important than keeping the books in rainbow order.

Because we believe boredom fuels inspiration. Because on Saturday they used a three hole punch to make confetti for a unicorn’s birthday. Because they see beauty in the way light refracts through magnetic tiles.

Because we like lots of hummus on our peppers, salt on our chips, and couch pillows in our snuggle forts. Because after we rolled in a pile of crunchy, flamed-colored leaves, we carried the evidence back into the house on our clothes, shoes, and hair. Because today—when I could have been folding towels—I cranked Ella Fitzgerald on the speakers and slow danced with the baby under the living room lights.

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(inspired by a prompt from exhale creativity)