Parenting is sometimes, on hands and knees, picking up the pieces from a night gone by
When you should be asleep
But you’re not
And you go to pick up board games sprawled across the floor to find more mayhem.
And you’re tired
But you keep going because life.:.
And you find the madness that your children have left and you wonder for a moment, then grab a broom, or a mop, or a match. Whatever fits.
So we wrestle against the ideal
And fight against time
We are only human
And we think we should be more
But we aren’t
We are flesh and bone raising flesh and bone
And the result is often messy…
Far from ideal
But we are breathing.
So I wonder if I can breathe when the board games drape the floor and I wonder what alien has invaded the floor beneath my dining room table.
Please tell me I’m not the only one!
Are we compelled to be the ideal or is there grace for the Lego littered floors and kid-scattered madness.
Is it okay to be human?!?
Or am I drowning?
I don’t really know.
But I know my kids are safe and asleep in their beds while I fight the dining room floor demons again.
Tomorrow, bring a clean, clutter free floor.
If not? Help me know that’s okay!
Otherwise, find me snuggled in a ball of Lego’s and remember I had greatness in me once.