It has come to my attention that a couple of people apparently have the impression that I have a pretty perfect life. That really makes me laugh, though, because anyone who has popped in unexpectedly has witnessed first hand how crazy things are around here. Our house frequently looks like it’s been ransacked and we experience a lot of child melt downs ’round these parts. I don’t make any bones about how unorganized things are, how saucy and impossible my children can sometimes be, how exhausted I am at times. I joke about how calling our home Casa del Wacko. And with good reason.
Perhaps the ‘perfection’ vibe I’m sending out has to do with the fact that I try to just accept the chaos for what it is. TRY. And what it is, is this:
I am a homeschooler, who is very busy.
I am a busy small business owner, who is very busy.
I am a wife and mother, who is very busy.
I am an involved volunteer, who is very busy.
I can’t get to everything.
Parts of my house are an embarrassment, because I simply can’t get to everything.
My kids will watch as much television this week as they are normally permitted in a month. But we are renovating and I’m juggling 5 or 6 projects on top of everything else, so I’m okay with that. And… guess what? I CAN’T GET TO EVERYTHING!
Intention isn’t about making it perfect, it’s about making choices. For me, part of this quest is accepting the chaos for what it is – a chosen and temporary blip reflective of my season of life.
Before I know it, my kids will be out of the house, it will be dreadfully quiet, and I’ll have all kinds of time to do all the things I postponed in the busy-years.
For now, however, my unorganized basement and filthy windows are there because I have consciously decided to spend time on other things that are way more important to me. That’s where I am now, and that is A-okay.
This crazy, temporary state I’m in now is not perfect, but it IS perfectly okay.
Does your season of life have you in a crazy place? (If you are a mother, I’d say that’s an automatic yes.) Join me in accepting it for the choice that it is.