I’ve
always been a Type-A personality; from a really young age, I felt a simple joy
from seeing a room picked up, everything in its exact space, meant exactly for
that specific item. It was always rejoiced as a child, something I felt proud
of and knew was a strong quality. It carried me through my part-time job
through high-school and college. I was nick-named scrubby bubbles because
anytime I could; I was found cleaning a little nook or cranny of the restaurant.
Then as I grew up in to an adult and had my first child, I cleaned houses for
extra money. Even now, as a full-time Mom; I clean an office-building for extra
cash. Cleaning house has quite literally been like second nature from a time I
was young. So as you can imagine when I became the full-time stay at home mom
that I am now, it was only natural to want to keep my home clean and in working
order.
What’s
all this talk about cleaning you may ask? Well as wonderful as this quality may
seem, it’s caused me so much anxiety in this season of my life. With two little
kids, a dog & a husband I can’t seem to keep something in the same spot for
longer than a couple of minutes. It’s like a game, as I travel around the house
picking items up off the floor, by the time I turn around, the vacuum lines are
covered in toys, dog hair and a crushed up goldfish.
I
quickly learned that holding on to this joy of a clean home would have to
become something of the past, at least for a little while, or I’d be chasing
this joy around instead of actually feeling it.
Lately
at the end of a long day, there is nothing like sinking deep in to a tub of
warm water and washing the days stress away. In my mind I picture a spotless
house, the kids tucked in bed all clean and a mound of fresh bubbles to sink
down in too. Yeah, no. Tonight I chuckled as I sat in the warm tub, our pool
clothes thrown on the floor by the washing machine, my sons training potty
still had pee in it from this morning and I realized I was out of adult soap so
I used something with a frog on it.
Life
these days is nothing picturesque, as hard as I try, sitting in a tub washing
myself with kid shampoo next to my sons pee is the reality, and the true work
has become finding the joy exactly where I am.
Even
though I try and put a lot of effort in to keeping my house in order, I’ve
learned the true goal has changed. It doesn’t have to be perfection, it doesn’t
have to be a clean surface or the satisfying appearance of vacuum lines; it’s
about the people who make the mess.
The pool clothes were
from a day of splashing in the pool, watching my daughter swim without her
swimmies and my son grin through his silly goggles. The pee sitting in the potty
was a victory I’ve been praying for, my son to show interest and learn to use
it. All of a sudden these little messes aren’t just messes, they represent a
child who’s learning, exploring and enjoying their childhood.
I will probably always
try to create a clean space, because lets be real, it’s ingrained in me. But I
can finally release the need to find joy in it, because that’s not where joy
comes from. Joy is found in the midst of the journey, the mess is the result of true joy!
