I haven’t done a slice-of-life post in a while now, because my life has way more slices than I’ve got time for! But I’m curled up in bed next to my 9 year old, who helped me clean up the play room in exchange for 15 minutes of extra reading time tonight. (She started Book 5 of Harry Potter before school today. Looks like she’s on page 131 right now.) That means the house is picked up (ish) AND all kids are horizontal, so life has given me time to write to you!
As C.and I cleaned up the toys, I had to laugh at myself. I used to insist on an incredibly organized play area. There were bins with labels, and everything got sorted into the bins. Little People had a bin. Vehicles had a bin. Ponies had a bin. It was simple. Tidy.
Now, I sometimes make a new bin. Like, the “everything on the left side of the room” bin. Or the “all the stuff you guys shoved under the couch” bin. And I’ve come to peace with that.
My kids don’t seem to mind, either.
My kids are happier with the toys desegregated. It’s not unusual for Anna and Elsa to be hanging out with some Lego Friends at a dude ranch made entirely out of old shoe boxes, broken magnets, and pipe cleaners. They seem unfazed by the one-eared rabbit, two times their size, that serves them cheesecakes made from trivial pursuit game pieces.
I’m pretty happy that I have those kids.
And they’re pretty happy to have me. The mom with the mixed up toys, art projects taped everywhere, and more messes than rules. I didn’t know that I was going to be that mom. I thought I needed bins with labels.
I’m really happy I was wrong.
It’s good stuff, this life. Enjoy it!