Let me settle this up front. I AM MESSY.
I know it and I hate it and I try and try and try to get everything picked up, but it is not a natural tendency of mine to pick up. My natural tendency? Piles. And keeping stuff. And having fun before I do my work.
I promise I’m not writing this post to let myself off the hook. There’s a balancing point. I don’t have it yet.
But…
Can I tolerate my children’s messes?
I was reading a blogger last week who has one baby a bit younger than Jude, and she said it seems like she spends her whole day picking up food. I thought, “YES! That is my life!” If you come to my house, be forewarned. DO NOT REMOVE YOUR SHOES. My children are messy eaters, and it doesn’t even seem to matter how recently I’ve swept – there’s always food on the floor.
Recently, I noticed Tahd on his hands and knees, painstakingly sweeping our dining room floor. Afterward, he PUT UP THE CHAIRS and mopped the entire area, spending a solid 15 minutes eradicating crumbs. Not more than thirty minutes later, as Isla dropped a gamepiece on the floor and asked me to reach it, what did I find? Crumbs under my table…gah! They make me shiver.
Sometimes – often when I’m feeling overwhelmed or disorganized – I get short-tempered about my children’s messes. Crumbs, toys, dreaded Legos, dirty clothes, clean clothes, toothpaste in the bathroom sink, chaos in the back seat of the car…sometimes I put on my cranky pants and billow about like a storm cloud.
Pick that up!
Don’t leave that on the floor!
Off my bed! I just made it and don’t want wrinkles!
Come here right now!
One thing at a time!
These are not illegitimate issues, but sometimes I forget…
Childhood is messy.
Today, we went outside to play in the snow. Tonight, my entryway is littered with still-damp layers of puffy winter garb. Messy? Yes. But when I saw the smiles and laughter and pink cheeks (and long naps!) I was happy I chose messy over neat.
Childhood is messy.
Or take baking. Isla has a strange fascination with my stand mixer, alternately terrified of it and magnetically drawn to it. If I’m getting ready to use it, she’s like a moth to a flame, invariably dragging a chair over to the counter to join me. On several occasions, I’ve caught myself gulping sighs, since her “helping” means ingredients e v e r y w h e r e and at least 10 extra minutes added to the recipe, but she loves it, and she loves helping, and she feels so proud to see what we make. These things are worth it.
Childhood is messy.
Then, there’s painting. My children love it. Truthfully, I love it, too, and I love doing it together because everyone is happy and engaged and quiet, a few of my favorite things. But messy?
Oh. My.
Sometimes, after the second cup of water has spilled and there’s paint on the wood and we have sixteen different palette plates going and I’m pretty sure we’re going to lose at least 4 brushes when I forget to wash them out, I wonder if it’s worth it, especially since we’re probably going to end up throwing the paintings away. But they love it, and it fosters creativity, and I love it, too. Maybe it’s not worth the mess every day, but some days.
Childhood is messy.
Childhood is messy because its very essence is constructed upon exploration and curiosity and experimentation. These messy experiences are our children’s first risks, the important building blocks for self-confidence, bravery, and second chances. If we don’t embrace (at least some) messy, we shrink the bounds of childhood a little bit. Do it enough, and we risk the exact things we don’t want to risk – weakening their courage and diminishing their experience with grace.
This isn’t supposed to be a guilt trip. Some days, it’s all I can do to keep everyone fed and clothed. Those are not good days for expansive living room forts, rice tables, or fingerpaints, and that’s okay. It’s okay to throw on one more episode of Phineas and Ferb so you can have 22 more minutes without General Home Destruction. It’s okay to say no to puzzles or Legos or playdough because you’re worried you’ll end up twitching on the floor if you add one more thing to the mess. Know yourself and know the limits of your resources.
But when you’re having a good day, give yourself a little nudge and expand those messy boundaries.
Make some room for messy. Make some room for immersive, experiential learning. Make some room for mistakes and second chances. Make a little room for these kinds of things because they’re good for the soul, they’re good for personal growth, they’re good for self-discovery.
You just might find they’re fun, too!