The Season of Dirt

A friend recently said something that made so much sense, and helped me navigate one of Mommyhood's many speedbumps.  I'm paraphrasing, but she described what I was going through as a season.  She said that's all life really is: a series of seasons.  It's a simple concept, but makes so much sense.  As a woman who was really struggling at the moment, it was a comfort to think that it would eventually pass and make way for the next phase.

I've thought about her statement a lot and have embraced it as a kind of mantra when things are especially difficult or even stagnant.  It can also help to remind me to be present and live fully in a moment of joy because it, too, will pass with the changing season.  In that instance, it will become a memory and I'd rather that memory be one of pure happiness rather than one of regret for what I missed.  I can't say that this has made my life perfect and that I don't still feel overwhelmed.  It just gives me a lifeline to grasp when I feel myself slipping down into a dark place.

My 37 years of experience have provided a wealth of seasons.  Some pass quickly and others linger, but I have never been one to dwell in the negative without seeking out a positive side.  I've seen too much to not be keenly aware that out greatest lessons in life come from our hardest struggles.  In the same way our bodies build muscle, we become stronger by working through challenges.  It isn't always fun, but it is always worth it.

Life at Sams Manor is currently messy; metaphorically and literally.  Inside the house, it's an obstacle course of toys, clothes (clean and dirty), crunched cheerios, spilled milk, dog hair and dust bunnies, and reams upon reams of paper covered in artwork and scribbles.Outside is a long neglected yard with overgrown hedges, a pool in the final stages of installation, and a garage that can best be described as utter chaos.  The children are usually dirty.  Dirty feet, dirty hands, food smeared on their clothes and faces.  The teenager's lair is reminiscent of every post-party hotel room you see in movies about drunken rock stars.  Empty food containers, half full cups of various liquids, sheets and blankets strewn everywhere and good God, the laundry piles!!

I struggle with the mess and how to handle it all.  While my husband has been trying to tackle as much of the outside maintenance, I've unsuccessfully tried to stay on top of the indoor stuff.  I yell and threaten the teenager to do a small number of chores, and enlist the help of my 4 year old through fun songs and candy bribes. All of this energy gives us a home that hits the lowest possible benchmark for livability, while allowing a few key areas that are acceptable backgrounds for Insta posts. 

On the flip side of the coin, I have found myself relaxing a bit when it comes to the dirt factor and the kids.  I am embracing dirty feet and faces because I know it means they are having fun.  I remind myself that the sticky fingers can be washed and the messy hair can be detangled when they're done doing their thing.  To follow them around with baby wipes and a hairbrush is just absurd.  Not only do I not have time for that nonsense, but it also takes time away from all the kid stuff. Would I rather they have perfectly coifed hair and clean clothes? Sure.  But it's not a dire necessity all the time.  When we're home or with friends/family, there's not a need for perfection.  (Or at least, there shouldn't be.) 

And so I've dubbed this our season of dirt.  Whether we're out camping or playing at the park, drawing and painting, or simply eating lunch, things are going to be messy.  It's just a season and like all seasons, it will pass.  In the meantime, I'm reminding myself to embrace the inevitable, work on what I can, and allow this season to be what it is, knowing that there is something new on the horizon.