Life is busy, as you know. For all I talk about the beauty of living a slow and intentional life, I sure feel like I’m living with my pants around my ankles, swinging haplessly by one arm around an out of control twirl-a-whirl while trying to apply liquid eye-liner. Chaos. Utter chaos, I tell you.
The other night, Abbey burst into my bedroom around 11:45. We had settled/tucked-in the kids hours before. Though it took four attempts before the girls seemed ready to stay put for the night. She was in tears. Sobbing, she told me that she had been “trying a new hairstyle and the comb got stuck and it w-o–o-o-o-n’t come o-u-u-u-t!”
It was an (almost) bloody mess…
Truly, she somehow managed to wriggle and twist that comb all the way to her scalp. One look at that mess and I found myself desperately fighting back laughter AND tears. Panic set in.
Abbey has a remarkable talent for getting herself into sticky (literally) situations. Slime, gloop, gum, taffy, glue…all very messy, incredibly tacky things that do not mix well with hair. At all (in case you were wondering).
Dealing with mess is an inevitable part of being a parent, I think. There are the early days of epic diaper blowouts and mud-covered knees, cereal thrown like confetti across the kitchen and a gob of gum in the hair. Then, there are the days of shattered friendships and broken hearts, bad choices and angry words, tossed carelessly without regard for who they will scar.
Let’s top it all off with a sudden injury or three, chronic illness, allergies, the beauty and challenges that come with neurodivergence, and the armload of other unplanned life events that can happen at any moment, shall we? Good grief…it’s a wonder any of us make it out with our sanity in tact.
And I honestly don’t know how to feel about the mess…
Some days, I roll with it. Others, not so much.
Like the other day, for example. Exhausted from a morning working on props and pre-winter yard work, we found ourselves rushing to get out the door and to an event. Once in a while, we make it on time and that day was one of those rare and beautiful days. Surprisingly, we made it through the day without any major meltdowns and without losing any shoes (this happens more than I ever thought possible).
After the event, Derek had to run an errand and I needed to fix a few pieces for a stage production. So, I gave the kids a few ideas to keep them busy. Surely, they wouldn’t get into too much trouble, I thought to myself (grave & rookie mistake…dammit Jess you know better). I mean, it had been a long day…everyone was spent…no energy for shenanigans and whatnot (so I thought).
I was wrong.
Needing a pair of scissors, I ran back into the house, up the stairs, into the kitchen. There, I found two little girls covered from head to toe in cornstarch and baking soda. Paint splattered over the table and floor, white powder dusting every surface.
The two girls? Focused. Dialed in. I mean, look at this face. Unquestionably, this is the face of a girl who doesn’t give a flying fuck about the chaos she’s unleashed.
Honestly, there was a time in my life when I would have been fumingly upset…
And I think that’s a valid reaction, right? While we all have ideas about how we want to react as parents, the truth is it doesn’t always pan out that way. Mostly, because we are human. There is a part of me that always wants to cherish these messy moments, hold them tight to my heart because I know one day, this chaos will end.
Then, there is the part of me that just wants a freaking break. Can I just have a day where I’m not stepping in something sticky, breaking up a fight over fruit snacks, cleaning up the aftermath of whatever bomb went off in the kitchen?
But, parenthood is messy as fuck…and, yeah, I feel weird about it.
When I found the girls lathered in their homemade slime creation, my mind went back to the previous night. I thought about how I wanted to laugh and cry when Abbey came sobbing to me in the middle of the night with a comb tangled in her hair.
In that moment, that’s how I felt. Of course, I was upset, angry at another mess to clean, frustrated that they didn’t ask me before unleashing this chaos. At the same time, I couldn’t help but laugh…amused at their audacity, tickled at their creative lust.
And that’s okay.
Maybe you’ve been there or perhaps you *are* there, right now. Stuck in the quirky limbo between tears and laughter. And, as a mom who has seen some shit, I’m here to tell you to sit in that weird place. Feel all of those things because it’s okay. You’re allowed to feel weird about it. Solidarity sisters and brothers.
Solidarity.
