Little Yellow Notepad

The air smells of freshly baked goodies; on the table sits an ornate, ivory porcelain tray filled with perfectly round chocolate chip cookies. A tall glass of milk stands proudly by each seat.

Little feet walk calmly into the room (after washing their hands, of course) and politely sit down to enjoy our 3 PM snack. We talk about our goals and needs, share insights and inspiration.

I smile to myself as each child waits for his/her sibling to finish talking before sharing their thoughts. No one talks while chewing.

So well behaved!

Everyone finishes up, wipes the table clear of crumbs and goes on their way.

And then I open my eyes.

Pounding, stampeding, shoving and talking loudly, my boisterous crew storms the kitchen, ready for snack.

As fast as only a mom can do, I peel and slice apples; some rectangular, some triangular; some with peels, some without peels; with stems and without stems, all custom ordered. Whoops, it wasn’t rectangular enough. Quick fix and it’s better. Uh oh, still a .01 cm of stem left; my mistake.

Brother #3 pushes brother #4 off his chair and brother #2 knocks  sister’s plate on the floor.

Phew, everyone is settled.

And then everyone is talking at once. They share details of their vivid dreams (amazing how brother#4 always has the same dream as brother #1!). They talk about games they invented, crafts they made…I catch every fifth word and nod enthusiastically.

Such excitement! Such energy!Such a great group of active kids!

Forget the porcelain plates. The cookies. The milk.

That was how I thought it would be- before I had kids. Oh boy am I the wiser now!

It took some months (ok, years!) till I discovered that it was me who set the bar of a picture perfect snack time. I was the one  who had set the unrealistic expectation!

And since the day that I realized that I was the one who had painted the cookies and milk image, I took the liberty to remodel it.

And while I was at it, I changed the definition of picture perfect too!

I gave up on the impeccable snack time illusion and embraced my reality of  “picture perfect.”

And they’re off. Before I could even give out drinks!

Today is not one of the days I’m going to reprimand them for leaving a mess behind. They’re too busy with more important things. There’s a whole world out there for them to explore and I know they’re working on it!

(And I confess, I don’t think they washed their hands before eating. )

If Newton hadn’t discovered the law of gravity, I bet my kids would have.

After all, they’ve tried and proven it more time than I’d like to admit.

Bouncy balls; that’s elementary stuff. They’ve done advanced testing; shoes, clothes, dolls, lego and even riding toys!

See, in my house there’s this great loft/play room overlooking the dining room-and soon after we moved in to our house, the overlook was deemed the perfect launching pad for scientific experiments.

At least I want to think of it like that.

Why else would they drop things down? Just because they want to hear the deafening, ear splitting sound on contact with the laminate wood floor?  Nah, can’t be. Just because they want to drive their ever so try-to-be patient parents insane? Nah, not my kids. They would never do that!

But recently I was thinking maybe they would.  Maybe they were out to drive me crazy.

Now I know what you’re thinking…you’re shaking your head saying – you’ve gotta make some firm rules in your house. No throwing. Zero tolerance.

Guess what – that’s precisely what I did! And continue to do! But once again, the good book has failed me. My kids must’ve read the antidote book of how to outsmart your parents. I’m sure it exists in the kid underworld, probably passed around in the hospital nursery during night shift during the first few days after birth.

So the rule is there, it is forbidden to drop things down from the second floor; yet my wise and innovative children are not done testing the laws of gravity.

And then, just yesterday, I had a new revelation of sorts.

We were all hanging out in the loft/playroom and the baby was crawling around with some Mega Blocks in his hand and he crawled over to the overlook…stuck out his hand…and dropped the toy down. Did I mentioned that the noise on contact with easy-to-clean mothers-dream laminate flooring is deafening?? 11 month old smiled to himself, got another toy, crawled back over and down it went with a crash.

At that moment there was a new revelation; they don’t do it just to drive me mad!

The proof? The 11 month old, this little guy; he is still on my team, so far he still dances to my tune. We’re buddies, he’s the one I can still count on. He wouldn’t be trying to push the limits with me.

And that’s when I officially discovered the New and Improved Law of Gravity:

If it can fall, kids will throw it down.

“Mommy, it seems like someone didn’t do the laundry this week!”

Uh oh, she’s talking to me. Help, where should I hide? I duck into the kitchen.

“Mommy, it really seems like the laundry wasn’t done this week. ”

The voice is coming closer… she will find me, what should I say? All my excuses flood my mind; this was a busy week! Sunday was the upshernish, catered by me! Monday was a big kosher takeout order, again catered by me! Tuesday and Wednesday – that was a blur of picking up and dropping off kids at various places and times.

And then comes the next round of thoughts – my good old friend Guilt. Why can’t I get it all done? Maybe I’m not such a great mom after all. Yesterday I had it all down pat, and now I’m falling short. I’m inadequate. The kids know it. She’s accusing me.

And then she’s there; right in front of me.

I straighten myself out and smile at my charming 7 yr old daughter. The lone sister of 5 brothers, she’s my only female friend around here. And these days, she’s quite the co captain of the ship.

“The laundry? What are you looking for?” It was a specific pink shirt. “Hmm, y’know I didn’t get to all the laundry yet, It’s been quite a week!”

“Oh yes,” she agrees. “What a busy week!”

And off she goes, to choose something else from her closet.

I HAD done laundry. At least 6 loads of it! Just not all of it. In this part of town, laundry never reaches THE END stage. But everyone DID have clean clothes to wear today.

I’m not inadequate after all!

But that sentence rang in my ears for hours… I’ve heard it (ok, said it!) in many variations: Someone didn’t clear their place at the table; Someone didn’t make their bed; Someone didn’t brush their teeth; Someone didn’t put their shoes in their cubby.

And I couldn’t help but wonder. Could it be when I say that, they feel the way I did? Accused? Inadequate? Not living up to my expectations? Like a failure?

They’re kids and they’re doing what they’re supposed to do! I think the world of them. They’re clever, fun and charming, to name a few. I make a mental note that no matter how many times a day I will trip over their little shoes in the wrong places, I will do my best to make sure they know what I really think of them.

My house is not a mess. It’s lived in.

It’s active, action packed, toy strewn and happening; but I will refuse to call it a mess.

There’s times when I contemplate putting a sign of the front door “closed for maintenance; will reopen in an undetermined amount of years.” There’s life here; there’s change and growth happening minute by minute. As each little set of hands and feet wanders around the house exploring, touching, feeling (ok, destroying, nudging, bothering too) they’re maturing and gaining.

Some days when I collapse on the couch at days end and let my eyes wander to the Magna Tiles in one direction, more Legos than I knew I owned in the other direction; some pots that the baby was playing with in the middle of the kitchen, clothes that some little people didn’t dutifully put in the hamper (like the kids in the books do) and the unpleasant thought that comes to mind is: THIS PLACE IS A MESS.

That’s when I make a quick and concerted effort with every bit of brain I have working at that hour and attempt to see the glass as half full;  this is the sight of happy kids exploring, discovering, growing. I say it over and over again. I’m not in denial (most of the time:) ) I know its not neat; but this is what happy kids exploring, discovering and growing looks like.

A friend once asked me how she could keep the house clean and neat when the kids are always home. My thoughts on that question is; you can’t.  Ever heard the expression, “Cleaning while the kids are growing is like shoveling while it’s snowing.”  (It’s not quite as funny as I use to think it was!)

In all honesty, you can; if you want to be a taskmaster or a slave laborer. But you can’t; if you want to remain sane and have happy, active kids.

Sure, I’ve got my systems and buckets and bins and containers in all the right shapes and sizes.  And  just like in the books I’ve trained my kids in all my systems; but unlike the books, they appear to be more the independent thinker than the pre-programmed robot type.

So although the half full perspective doesn’t get the toys cleaned up, it does clear the brain!