Dear Moms…

Every time I see moms post a cute picture of something their child has done, or wants to share a family selfie, seems like the first thing that rolls off the tongue is the disclaimer “don’t mind my messy house”, “please excuse the disaster in the background”. Why do we do this? Has not EVERY parent on this planet been in the middle of a living-room-tornado on a daily basis? My advice: STOP. IT.

One of my favorite quotes is this:


So hang a sign on the front door if you must, and get on with your beautiful life! Never again will your children be as little as they are now and never again will you get these moments back. Although my children are only 3 years old and 5 months old, I have been told by many parents with adult children “When they’re gone, you will wish you had these chaotic days back.”

Never mind the chicken tender remnants you just found under the couch, the raisins (or were they grapes?!) hiding in your child’s closet, or the dirty socks that will never meet their mates again, nobody is judging you! And if they are, they probably don’t have kids. Besides, if you spend all your time cleaning up the nasty closet-raisins, what will your children snack on in the middle of the night? (Yes, I just said Eewww! in my head, too.)

I also think of Cale’s toy-explosions as a free home security system! If someone broke into our house in the night, they would be in for some REAL fun, tripping over blaring fire engines, busting their feet on Legos, and before it’s over, they would be read a sweet story by the talking story time bear (that NEVER shuts up!!). The karma is real, Mr. Thief By Night, the KARMA. IS. REAL.

When Cale was an only child I would stress over every dirty dish and bottle in the sink. I would unravel at the thought of a dirty toilet, and come unglued if I didn’t get a shower every day. Now, I proudly display spit up on every black sweater I own. I can’t tell you when I washed my hair last. I think the dust on my baseboards makes a nice accent to the wall color. And, the deafening screams of a toddler meltdown are music to my ears. (Ok, maybe I’m stretching the truth a little bit, but I’ve come a long way!)




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