My life would be perfect if this dang dining room wasn’t piled up with so many craft projects unfinished, or remote controls that need batteries, or school assignments that needed filing.
My life would be perfect if Owen would stop leaving candy wrappers and band aids randomly around the house.
My life would be perfect if Emma would just put away the laundry I folded for her instead of putting it on the floor of her room.
My life would be perfect if James would just put his empty dishes away instead of leaving them by the couch.
My life would be perfect if I could scoop the cat box with my thoughts and I didn’t have to actually scoop it up using my hands and the scooper.
My life would be perfect if the pile of laundry waiting to be washed would just clean itself.
My life would be perfect if Emma would just do her homework without first watching a marathon of YouTube videos.
My life would be perfect if Owen would pick up his dirty clothes and socks from the living room where he strips out of them every day.
My life would be perfect if James actually cleaned the garage and put things away when he was done with them.
My life would be perfect if I lost 10 pounds and didn’t see my muffin top squish over the waist band of my pants when I sat down.
But wait. I’m wrong. How could I be so selfish to think this, when my life IS perfect.
These are the thoughts I have when I’m frustrated and tired. Like we all are, right? When I feel like I just folded that basket of laundry; why is there another one? When another school morning comes and I feel like I’ve packed 50 million juice boxes in a lifetime and fetched out the favorite ‘lost’ shirt from the back of the dresser for the 20th time. Or when the dust bunnies are getting large enough that I might start mistaking them for actual pets and need to put out a food bowl for them too.
I can’t let the ‘would be… if…’ phrase rule my life.
My life IS perfect.
It’s perfect in the here and now with the children and the husband I love. We are healthy right now. We are employed with a roof over our heads and we have all the food we need in the pantry. (Even if I can’t cook a single thing for dinner we can all four agree on that we like.)
If my life was the perfection I described above, it would be dull. I would be lonely. If you took away the piles and the mess makers, I would be lost. I don’t know how people have a family, perfectly clean house, fabulous husband AND are a taut size 2. I’m thinking there is something else lacking somewhere in their souls. Right? Maybe? I bet they chain smoke cigarettes behind the shed. Yeah, yeah, that’s it.
But I’m a work in progress. So I will TRY and not keep wondering when things will get perfect. When things will get easier. And I will just enjoy the messy chaos that is ours.
And maybe get a new chore chart.