Wednesday, March 2, 2016

What's Mine is Yours

No one really warns about how in becoming a parent whatever is yours essentially becomes theirs. The food we eat - all fair game. So the slice of toast left on the counter top while running to grab a sweater disappears just as quickly as the order of your room will unwind on a slow Sunday morning while you step out to water the plants. The bed made an hour ago scattered consistently with dirty socks and a trail of neon lego squares beneath your feet. The towels washed and hung last night rumpled and soiled by four filthy hands come lunch time. Candles carved with tiny canyons by a baby's curious fingernails. The furniture traced with permanent marker, walls etched in colored pencil. Coffee mugs chipped, window panes cracked. All your pretty dresses tangled up in the slink of shinny polyester super hero capes that keep appearing no matter how many times you went to put them in their rightful place.

The books torn or water logged from regular mid morning spills. Shoes mismatched. With one floating in leftover bathwater and the other one flung into the bushes beneath the front widow where all good things go to die.

A laptop paused to a post a new recipe highjacked to refresh the video on simple drone construction.  Two golden rings missing from a ceramic jewelry hand. Three records broken. One bag of chips in the pantry you stocked two days ago now all that remains.

Everyday I watch all corners of my sparse and muted bedroom become a candy colored wasteland of disagreed toys pepped with gum wrappers and action figures welding weapons strewn around the floor, hot wheels hidden in the sheets when I turn in. Tiny crumbs on my pillow where I rest my head. Where I make the rounds picking up and putting away pieces of their boy hood eclipsing corners of my womanhood. Cursing the small crack in my perfume. Begrudging the chocolate they found and devoured before I even had the chance. Fantasizing about long baths without the wild limbed baby taking note and climbing in.

What's ours is theirs. The unwritten rule of motherhood we come to accept because in reality we wouldn't have it any other way. And I suppose we know (behind what frustrations these fleeting days come to ignite) that a quiet clean house awaits us down the line, at the end of it all. When they've grown and gone and there's little left to pick up then except our selfs, and maybe a few of those old folded interests we clung to in the younger days of youth, days before they arrived to clutter up and change the game (and our hearts) for good.



Photo by Kristin Rogers, nine months pregnant with Hayes. 

14 comments:

  1. Feeling all this lately. I try to imagine sometimes, when I see those sparse, open, immaculate shots on instagram that are so white and clean that they have me dreaming of a stint at an old school sanitarium (fresh air! ice baths! cozy straight jackets!) that to the left, just out of frame, is a gigantic wall of junk. Straight up filth. And these lovely women take a push broom, shove it all to the side, get their shot then head back to their spot on the couch for more housewives of atlanta and foraged snacks. I so appreciate you, your commentary, and the crumbs I noticed on your floor in one of your snapchats. ;)

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    1. crumbs and more on snapchat. where all false pretenses fly right out the window :D

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  3. This just made me laugh and cry!
    So true, all of it.

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  4. This just made me laugh and cry!
    So true, all of it.

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  5. Yes! Not only is this so easy to relate to, but it serves as a gentle reminder in the safety and comfort that sharing your parents space/food/bed covers provides young children. The next time I get frustrated when I find my bedroom strewn with legos or that they have sneakily taken another pancake off of my plate, I should pause and appreciate this a little more than I typically do, and lay off the canned "you should respect other people's things!" wahwahwah speech I would normally deliver. :)

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  6. Thank you. I find myself pining sometimes for minimalism, surfaces so clean they shine and order but then I realize the absence of those would mean the absence of play or a very unhappy home. And I only have one! My second boy is on the way :)

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