Three of my four little angels were gone last week. My parents picked them up for a week of Grandma and Grandpa time. My husband and I got to spend a week basking in the memories of a single child household. However, we had been left with the high maintenance child. She surprised both of us. We took her to Como Zoo for her first visit. The Sparky Show confused her (I’m sure in her limited experience, all animals wave and blow kisses), as did all the clapping, laughing and cheering. Like her sister before her, any of the exhibits that included water was her favorite. Overall, the whole day was great. My two year old had been replaced with a sweet, reasonable child.
Marais enjoying her day.
Dad went back to work and we swam, swung, gardened, consumed all of the raspberries straight from the bush, and cleaned. My house was glorious! Both boys’ rooms were cleaned top to bottom, same with the bathrooms, the family room, the living room, and the kitchen. A glimpse of how my house would look without children. To be honest, I don’t hate the mess, I just hate stepping on a ‘Don’t Break the Ice’ block that’s been hidden under a blanket.
The other three came home and all was good. My babies were all back under one roof. With them came the temper tantrums. The two year old seemed to think she had to make up for the week she let me off the hook. And the youngest three went back to arguing. How could I have forgotten that?
To cut my boys some slack, it is my girls who destroy everything. How can a six and two year old cause such a mess? Sometimes my house is like a scene from Sharknado. The two year old floods the bathroom at bath time. There’s a body count in the kitchen (how does one six year old have so many dolls?). And I walk away at the end of the day exhausted, wet, bloody and feeling like I lost a limb along the way.
Turns out when all is said and done, I miss the chaos. A clean and quiet house is overrated. Of course, I could be a few crayons short of a full box. I don’t think so, after all, I am realllly looking forward to the new school year. T-minus 12 days. But until then, look for me in the mess. No, really, someone might need to send in a rescue team to find me in the pile of toys and blankets that has taken over my living room.