Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Awkward Mom vs. Mess

I didn't want to give her that donut. I bought her those specially packaged Teddy Grahams that fit in the car cup-holder, just so that she wouldn't want one of the glazed donuts that I was taking home. I should have know better. I mean, I have had nearly 2 years to get to know Super Toddler and her appetite. (The child rung in her 9-month-old birthday and doctor's permission to eat any solids she could by promptly eating 3 tacos and a piece of cake) So, of course, Super Toddler flung the specially packaged Teddy Grahams across the car, while shouting DONUT! DONUT! for everyone in the Meijer parking lot to hear. I wasn't going to win that judgement battle; half the passing folks were glaring because she knows the word donut and half were glaring because I wasn't heeding her donut lust fast enough. I gave her the donut. It was horrifically messy. And I would do it again. Not because of her embarrassing shouting or my burning need to sugar up my children just because the Grandparents happen to be in town or it is Halloween or a random Tuesday. No. I did it because parenting is messy and I think I am actually fine with that. 

My lovely and loving children-

Life with me is never going to be perfect, organized, or even totally sanitary. But I can promise you that it will be fun, funny, and full of fierce love. It is also going to be messy. That, and the following, I can certainly promise you: 

I will let you finger paint on the kitchen floor.

I am fine with packing peanut fights and couch forts. 

I will let you put stickers all over the wall. 

Sure, let's buy more glitter.

I will allow you to eat in the car. Even if it is a glazed donut that you somehow smear pieces of on the window, the car-seat buckle, your hair, your sibling, the fabric seats, and the ceiling. I will even pull over to the side of the road when you get the glaze in your eye and start to scream like a banshee on fire. I will come back there and try to wipe it off you and your surroundings with 14 wet wipes, before I give up and just give you a big kiss that renders me nearly as sticky as you. 

I don't see why you can't pretend to be zombies with that old makeup. It isn't getting any other use.

I will let you make a volcano in the dining room.

I see that you have created a lake on the bathroom floor to float boats across; maybe that could be relocated to the bathtub for the time being, eh? 

I will buy the more expensive wall paint in an effort to not totally destroy the value of our home via peanut butter finger prints. 

What's a movie night without popcorn that will get trapped in the couch for 2 months?

I will allow play-dough, even over the carpet. Just try not to get it on the cat this time. 

Toilet paper mummies? Yes, that's a good idea. 

Yes, I agree that your rock collection might be cold, and yes, they can live in your closet for the winter.

I am cool with you pouring your own juice. 

Please help me make this cake. You can crack the eggs.

Next time you want to juggle, maybe pick something a little less challenging than glasses, OK? 

If you have to vomit and you can't make it to the garbage or toilet, you just go ahead. I'll catch it or clean it; it really is OK. Because vomit happens and I don't want you to feel bad about making a mess, on top of feeling sick.   

Sometimes accidents happen and they don't make you a bad person. It's just pee. Or poop. Everyone learns in their own time. 

Lysol is a wonderful thing that Mommy owns a lot of. 

Get messy. 

Dirt washes off, and if you ingest some, it might just make you healthier in the process. 

You are exploring, learning, and growing; most of that does not involve a lot of order and bleach. There will be time enough for order and bleach smells kinda gross anyway. 

You are more important that anything else in this house. Stuff is just stuff. But you are the priceless creations that make up the magical ether of dreams. I did not have you to have a perfectly orderly house for you to worry about keeping perfect and orderly. I had you in order to share my life and everything in it, and if some of that everything gets broken or messed-up or slimed in the process, so be it. As long as it isn't you that get broken, I am fine with whatever happens. I promise. 

I love you,
Awkward Mom

Sandbox? No. You can NOT have a sandbox.
I have to draw the line somewhere. Might as well be in the sand.  


  1. I was wondering when you were going to mention sand?