I sit here tonight amidst the rubble of my once tidy living room. It is no more. I now have twins tornados that daily wreak their havoc, and each evening I put them to bed and come out here and sit in the chaos.
From where I sit, I see dolls and toys and pretzels; coasters, a long disused Bumbo seat, and a stuffed dog that barks Jingle Bells (ask me how much I love that dog. Just ask. I dare you…). I know that on the dining room floor are bits of orange, bread, and chicken that were dropped at dinner.
I used to care a lot more about the order and tidiness of my home, but that level of care has long since gone out the window. Sure, I wash the dishes, pick up all the toys, and sweep the floors, but there is always the lingering, “Why bother?” that comes with it. Cleaning a house with toddlers in it is like trying to rake leaves in a storm.
I used to care a lot but now, as long as I can maintain basic sanitation, I just don’t. Why? Because the debris and chaos in which I am currently sitting is just evidence of fun. My crazy little tornados have torn up this living room with FUN. They play every day with ferocious intensity. Play is their job, and they pour their entire selves into it, leaving a wake of mess behind them once they ultimately tire and fall asleep for the evening.
I could follow them around, picking up as they go. I could spend day trying to convince them to only play with one thing at a time, or to put things away once they’re done. That would be a fruitless, frustrating waste for all of us, though. Instead, I get on the floor and join in the mess making fun.
Farewell, Tidy Living Room, I’ll take fun and joy and the disaster area it creates over a tidy house devoid of play any day.