It's a Messy House

It's 2 pm.  The two year old just went down for a late nap and baby is sleeping.  It's the quiet of nap time that many moms hope for daily.  Looking around I feel a bit overwhelmed at the little messes all around.  

Laundry.  It's never done.  Coconut flakes and icing smeared under the kitchen table.  Been there for two days now.  Sugar granules spilt on the counter top with a half-drawn "A" still visible.  Spaghetti plates in the sink.  Toys.  Toys. Toys.  Scattered in the living room.  Oh, and there is baby Jesus sandwiched between the couch cushions.  

I really want to do something important.  Surely I could be a famous blogger or author a children's book or at the least read my textbook for next semester all while drinking a latte, but the messy house really needs attention.  Here I tend to begin to loathe and feel sad for the person I think I want to be.  Then I am reminded of all that the mess represents.  

Love.  Family.  Fun.  Play.  Gifts for friends.  Baking with a toddler.  A cuddly baby.  Sweet treats.  A Christmas party.  Dinner from a friend.  All things wonderful.  

And, the mess suddenly becomes a blessing.  For without all these life might just be a bit too quiet, empty, and lonely.

I love getting to be a Mommy.  It's a messy privilege for which I never want to loathe.