I have swept the flour I-don't-know-how-many-times today. And there are still crumbs, and probably some stray pinto beans Little Guy threw from his high chair during dinner. Someone will step on them and squash them later.
The sofa was covered with laundry today. I did manage to get it folded and I did take a basket full upstairs. But there it remains.
I discovered the playroom was a disaster area. As were all three kids' bedrooms.
I'm grouchy and weary from chatter, one child's constant stream of ideas bombarding me every moment I try to focus on something else. I just want some quiet tonight, time to recharge my depleted mind.
It's all so cliche. The messes. The dishes. The laundry. The chaos of kids. It just seems so... over-stated. Every one of us moms talk about these things. It's just the way it is, with kids. There is nothing special about my situation, my frustrations, my exhaustion at the end of the day. So it feels foolish to even write about it. It's all been said before. By me and countless others.
I am so tempted to think that what I do doesn't really matter. Because most of it will have to be done again today or tomorrow. It's regular work, that's for sure.
But I take pride in it. Being here at home with my children, day in, day out, being a homemaker, a home educator. I do really believe that this matters. I could be doing anything, but I chose this.
I do what I do for good reasons.
We started a new book today. The Green Ember by SD Smith. I kept hearing about it and it was free for Kindle one day. It's not the type of book I typically enjoy reading aloud (fantasy) and would rather get the audiobook. But, again, it was free for Kindle. So I read five chapters aloud today. I utilized the highlight feature a few times. I'm thinking this will be a good book. But I'm not all-in yet.
Until Brown-Eyed Girl asked me tonight, as I wiped down the stove top; "Is the author of The Green Ember a Christian?" "You know, I think he is." I said (and it may be that SD Smith is a woman, ha!). "What made you think he might be?" I asked her. "The part about the king." She answered, and walked off. King Jupiter, the best king there ever was... reminding her of The Best King There Ever Was... Jesus.
This is why I do what I do.
All four kids are squashed on the couch watching something on Netflix together, one blanket covering all of them.
This is why.
My little one clinging to my legs. Or his tight grip around me as I carry him. His legs clenching around me because he doesn't want to be put down.
This is it.
Sipping caramel tea out of yard sale tea cups and dipping graham crackers in it as we sit around the table together with a good book.
Yes.
All those questions they ask that I get to answer. About sex, why people do what they do, about beauty, truth, good and evil.
It's the best.
Watching them fill their bellies with good, healthy food, mostly, and hearing the occasional "thank you" for it.
I do what I do for them.
I know, know, know that it matters more than I could ever really know.
That may be cliche. Along with all the messes and chaos and crumbs. But it is still very, very true.
