The Joys of My Life

Dear community friends,

We moved into our home on Feb. 11. It is now July. Four and a half months have passed. Would I like to have all of my boxes unpacked? Yes. Would I like to stop using one of those unpacked boxes in place of a bedside table? Yes. Would I like to have new curtains rather than broken mini-blinds in my living room? Yes. 

I frequently find myself vividly imagining just how the house will "end up." I envision each room in its finished perfection: painted walls, hung pictures, those new window treatments in the family room. Fresh green printed comforter, complementary green curtains, orange and blue accents of color on the walls of Logan's room. Beaded, floral curtains for Paige, along with pink walls, a lamp since there's no light in there, and adorable arrangements of art for her room. Serious closet organizers, valances and serene paint in the master bedroom. Oh, and the unpacking and removal of boxes in each room.

The kitchen's in good shape, although I'd love to move the white table in from the garage. Ah yes, the garage, the back section of which houses my fabulous teaching studio. I teach acting and singing lessons, and I especially can't wait to pull together this huge, creative room with sunshine yellow paint, new carpet and inspiring art.

After these decorating musings, my eye rests on the clutter throughout the house. My next mental exercise is to visualize all of the toys put away, all of the dishes washed, the laundry clean and neatly stacked in the cozy closets, a genuine office space in the studio rather than paper stacks on the kitchen counter, towels neatly hung in the bathroom (ooh, that one I can check off, since my husband just installed towel racks today). 

So, as fun as it is to imagine my picture perfect house ready for its feature in Better Homes & Garden, I remember why the house appears as it does: spending time with my beloved family brings me more joy than anything else. Would I rather wash dishes for three hours, or blow bubbles and throw an impromptu watermelon picnic in the backyard? Would I rather prep the living room for paint, or spend the day adventuring at Timbertown? How about folding infinite loads of dish towels versus building volcanoes out of Play Doh and rescuing Handy Manny out of clay caves?

I am reminded of Erma Bombeck's famous essay on having a perfect house, neat as a pin, not a toy or crumb or dirty sock in sight...and it is only because the children have grown and gone. How heartwrenching to imagine I could drive myself to keep the house immaculate and decorated to the hilt, and miss out on sharing these most precious years with Logan and Paige.

Here's one cool thing: we are entering the stage in which Paige and Logan are enjoying doing house projects together. This is the best of both worlds. Yesterday, we baked a carrot cake together, and had a marvelous time. They are very excited to paint the color "cornmeal" on the studio walls. Logan enjoyed shopping for his new green leaf comforter, and we all poured over paint chips at Lowe's to select our favorite colors for each room.

If I close my eyes, and go to that place in which I have a perfectly kept house, where I'm not impaling the bottom of my foot with LEGOs, not wading through an ankle-deep sea of board books, not searching for the last piece of a jumbo floor puzzle under the scary small toy and crumb trap under the couch, not scraping smashed blueberries off the kitchen floor, not being vociferously beckoned to set up Nintendo Wii tennis while on a phone call, not snuggled next to someone whose shirt smells like grass stains and guacamole and another whose shirt smells like clay and cherries...I feel profoundly...sad.

My arms would ache if they couldn't hold these beautiful, messy, creative, energetic, curious, authentic, need- and pleasure-driven natural human beings. I love them more than words can express. To imagine the absence of them in my life is intolerable for more than a few seconds of exploratory wondering: What if it were quiet? What if it were tidy? What if it were picture perfect?

The truth is, it is perfect. I would not change one single thing about my family, my children, my choices or my home. I love them more than enough to give up sweating the small stuff, and to instead introduce them with an open spirit to the expansiveness of endless possibility the universe offers, by creating this climate of freedom and exploration at home. And, we need to get Ben home to share every second of our delicious life together (see my blog post ).

The time will come soon enough for me to meticulously clean and tidy and straighten and decorate. I'm happy to relegate chores and fixits and polishing to the occasional cleaning frenzy, family project day by consensus, and engaging our beloved mother's helper for an afternoon while I pull the kitchen together.

For now, though, sign me up for fort-building as architects, downtown strolls as discoverers, chalk drawing as artists, baking as chefs, tie-dyeing as chemists, T-ball as athletes, Barbies as storytellers, and star-gazing as astronomers. Now that is a life worth imagining and making real each moment of every day.