This morning we were having a discussion about why two of my kids have to brush their hair in the morning,
but one does not
(the fact that the no-brush kid has to douse his head in water each day didn't enter the "it's not fair"-kids' train of thought).
I thought a visual demonstration might help explain the difference to my children.
Here is what happens when the no-brush kid brushes:
"So you see, kids, life just isn't fair. Now go brush your hair."
And then the two brushed happily, while the one tamed the mane.
And we were all laughing.
I got to spend the majority of my day with a little boy who's just 6 weeks younger than Jeremiah.
Drool. Diapers. Worries about electrical cords and outlets.
Giggles, smiles, and a squishy little guy in my arms.
Some of us are too quick to throw things away.
And then there's DIY Man. 9 years, folks. And I think my husband still shed a tear as he solemnly placed these faithful soles next to the trash can this morning.
May they rest in piece(s).
My middle child took great pains today to look like a basketball player. He literally changed outfits all morning trying to find the right ensemble. And in the end, he felt like a superstar.
Which makes me think.
How much time do I spend trying to put everything together - right smile, right clothes, right words - so that I can play the part? Who am I trying to fool, anyway? I don't have my stuff together. And I certainly don't want to be unapproachable because other people think I do have my stuff together, because I wanted them to think I do, even though I don't.
I want to be me. A mess. A growing, changing, becoming-less-messy mess, but still. A mess, just the same. And I want other people who are messy to know that I'm ok with their mess, and that I'll enter into that with them.
Let's be messy, People. Together.