If you’ve ever watched your child replay their entire day, in real time, using their favorite stuffed animal, you might be a parent.
If your security system on your home has nothing to do with laser sensors and everything to do with a pile of backpacks right at the front door, followed by a maze of shoes and blankets, you might be a parent. Sometimes I walk in and think, how would we even know we’ve been robbed?
If you’ve ever poured yourself a bowl of cereal, from a wide open bag in a wide open open box, noted – unsurprised – that it was stale and not only put it back in the cupboard, but ate it anyway, you might be a parent.
If you’ve ever hidden the last … anything. Cinnamon roll, Reeses cup, working pen…. specifically planning to bring it out after bedtime, or keep it secret until you yourself also forget about it… well, you might be a parent.
This has been a long and busy week already. And it’s about half over. There’s been something going on each night after work. My husband has a cold. Work meetings starting an hour before I would generally get to work, which means an hour earlier than my children generally get up. Luckily it’s at least been warm again. It got slightly cooler last weekend and I panicked, just a little, because I knew that my oldest was still wearing jeans from six months ago, when she was four inches shorter.
I have now recorded two episodes of This Is Us, which I’m sure I’ll love, and have been told I’ll love, and I am in Season 4 – only halfway – of the family re-watch of Gilmore Girls before the new episodes appear on Black Friday. I just ordered two books from the library on the recommendation of a friend, while I just returned another one unread, because after I renewed it twice, the library called my bluff and told me I couldn’t renew it again. Just when I was going to get to it! I still have hope for the new arrivals, though, because sometimes you just have to cut your losses and begin again, fresh.
I am tired. I have at least three overnight spots on my face, and my meal planning for the week consisted of two crock pot soups, with one day of leftovers in between. Today, I added grilled cheese, and I felt kind of guilty that this was my above and beyond, and kind of like a rock star for adding a two-course meal to my week.
And yet, when I got home tonight, I looked at the high school soccer practice going on across the street, and at the beat up pink soccer ball left in the front yard, the fall flowers blooming while the leaves finally begin to turn, the sun slanting across our front walk, and in my head I sang a chorus of, Our house…. is a very, very, very fine house, with two cats in the yard….
I wouldn’t necessarily say that everything is easy. In fact, I’d say it’s not. And when I think too much about the outside world, I’m a little prone to despair. When I look inside, I wonder how we’re ever going to catch up on our basic housework, let alone the pet projects that I have for myself. And yet, in the end, it’s a house full of morning squabbles, laundry that has yet to be put away, and birthday invites from parties attended two weeks ago… and while it’s not perfect, it’s pretty great.
If you’ve ever watched your children read with a beloved pet tucked under their arm, and let bedtime slide just a little bit because it’s a perfect scene, and then ten minutes later yelled up the stairs that tomorrow, bedtime was going to be early unless teeth were brushed in three, two…. then you might be a parent. And probably your house is a very, very, very fine house, too. Don’t let the general chaos convince you otherwise.
