I knew I’d have to let go of a little of my OCD when our little one came home, and I was right. It’s been a challenge, but one I’m happy to accept. Obviously. I’m actually pretty amazed I’m okay with a slightly messy house. In fact I find it satisfying. I recently read an article about how creativity thrives in a messy space. Items not in their “proper” place somehow forces your mind to think outside of the box. Interesting, although, I can’t say I’ve felt more creative lately. I can say I seem to be more comfortable at home. The house feels very lived in now.
Toys, burp cloths, bottles, kid’s books on a shelf that used to house electronics (now moved out of reach), brightly colored everything strewn on the floor. These are signs of a child. A child at play, learning and growing. Something I’ve waited a long time for.
Dishes in the sink, crumbs on our dining table, used bibs hanging from a dining chair. These are signs of family dinners. Meals made by hand with love. Togetherness.
A bathtub filled with squirt toys, rubber duckies, tiny washcloths, piles of hooded towels. These are signs of a bedtime routine. A sense of calm brought on by warm running water and the smell of lavender.
An unmade bed, soft multicolored blankies unfolded due to frequent use, pillows everywhere except the head of the bed. These are signs of cuddling and mid-day tickle attacks. Signs of nap time and comfort.