The kids and I just cleaned the house. The floors are scrubbed, the legos have been plucked out from under the registers and there are new ABC sheets on Peter's bed since the former ones were mysteriously drizzled with Elmer's Glue. Hmmm.
We do this every Thursday – spend a few hours scrubbing, folding, wiping, and throwing out broken HappyMeals toys – but this week the tribe is putting in a bit more effort.
Their two cousins are in an airplane right now, flying 24 hours around the world to land in our feverishly excited arms. Right this very minute. I imagine that by now the two little girls have worked their way through any surprise presents/movies/snacks and my sister Leah is now doing tricks of many kinds to keep them happy.
Our house is clean for them, but it won't be clean for long.
I am glad really. What fun is a clean house? I am basically cleaning it so it can be a staging ground for the next three months of play-doh, recipes involving copious amounts of cheese, bathing chubby babies, and watching ridiculous comedies late at night with the ones I love. Don't get me wrong, I love how it looks right now, how it smells like Pine-Sol and sunshine. The floor on the boys room is free of guinea pig food and legos, and the girls have their pink flipflops in perfect rows.
I love a clean house, but most of my happy memories are of the messy times.
Like eating cake batter with my sisters as a kid. That was not a clean kitchen that day. Or the time our dog Heidi decided to deliver her 10 pups behind 10 different pieces of furniture throughout our house. Great memory. Not the cleanest. This week, I had a friend over for lunch – with her busy little baby, we had ten kids in this house. There were duplos on the floor, half-finished sandwiches on the table, and every one was happy.
I know I am misquoting Nietzsche when he said “You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star,” but when the dancing star is a family, I fully believe we all need a little bit of chaos. That's where the living happens. It's in the middle of baking chocolate chip cookies/soccer practice/late night cereal parties. When there is flour on your floor, a pile of laundry in front of your washing machine and a suspicious smell coming from a certain child's room, I know the urge is to freak out (I know because I do it), but take a minute to look past the chaos and find that dancing star. You will be glad you did.
Now, let's mess this place up and make some memories.
