Taking the Long View

this is why the mess doesn't matter

One of my goals as a parent it to always keep the long view in mind. Sometimes I fail spectacularly but I find that thinking about what my long term goal is helps me to discern important from nonessential.

When my children were very small my husband designated a wall in our house that was theirs to do whatever they wanted. It was not easy to buy into this plan because it meant that EVERY guest we had would be passing the "art wall" on the way to the bathroom. But his argument was that he always wanted to have one when he was a child and that the kids mattered more than the wall. For the next four years they painted, drew with chalk, crayons, and markers on that small expanse of wall. At first it made me cringe and then little by little I embraced the idea that my children were more important than the mess. It only took one hour to Kilz and paint that wall when the kids were done with it and it gave them four years of enjoyment and an awareness that we valued their artistic expression and freedom.

Our house has been the site of indoor cookie parties with 12 pounds of icing in 20 different colors with 47 kids under 10, tye die parties with 35 kindergartners armed with mustard and ketchup squeeze bottles to squirt the shirts, craft days with glitter and glue and an abundance of paint that was only overshadowed by the number of children doing the painting. At the end of some of these parties, I would wonder if it would be easier to just move than to scrub the hardened icing from the walls and vacuum the glitter from the floorboards. But years later my kids remember some of those parties with a clarity that I find surprising.

We don't just punish ourselves with parties, we also have incorporated messy endeavors into our family traditions. Every year we decorate gingerbread houses. It started at my mothers house and has moved on to ours since all live together on the family compound and is a highlight of the Christmas season. As much sprinkles end up on my floor as on the houses and the sheer volume of candy and frosting can be overwhelming. We bake gingerbread cookies every year and they always "run away" while they are cooling and a grand hunt ensues to find them. But at the end I always wonder if it would be easier to just burn down the house instead of cleaning the kitchen.

Here is where the long view comes in - when my children are grown they will remember that we gave them a wall and valued them above the opinions of our guests, they will remember that we had parties that bordered on absolute chaos and managed not to micromanage their creative process, they will remember that we put family traditions and togetherness over a sparkling clean floor. I hope when they become parents they will embrace the temporary mess because by embracing the mess they will be embracing their child and making memories.

The day will come when my house is perfectly decorated, sparkling clean, and calm and peaceful all the time and then I will miss the mess and the chaos.

my kids still remember this like it was yesterday and that cutie in the red dress is my surly teenager

Falling Apart

The first time I held my oldest child she died in my hands. As they pulled her from me and began the frantic, frenetic process of resuscitating her, my mind and my heart separated. I endured silently and calmly until I saw that she was breathing and her heart was beating again. Then I fell apart. When I was scrubbing up to see my son in the neonatal ICU two years later, I heard the code blue for him over the loudspeaker. Once again the rational and emotional sides of me splintered and I endured until he was stable and then broke down.

Two of my children have disabilities. I do not have the luxury of falling apart during a problem. Problems are a part of our daily lives. I have stood by helpless and watched my older children scream and shake in pain, endure countless hours of therapy, medical procedures, uncertain futures. What makes it possible for me to stand by and stay calm is that I almost lost both of them. I have faced the mortality of my oldest children. What is pain and disability compared to death? It is hard to care what the future holds for them when I am just so grateful they have one.

But my baby is different. My youngest child holds the distinction of being the only child I have never had to watch suffer. The only child I have not seen die. The only child I held when she was born, brought home without a tangle of wires, and my only child without a disability. I have never stood by her ER bed while she screamed and begged for me to make the pain stop. I never had to be helpless with her.

Until last week. At a routine orthodontic checkup her doctor found a fast growing tumor that was growing into her lower jaw. She was in the hospital within 36 hours being prepped for surgery and I was barely holding it together. When they wheeled her in to the OR she reached her little hand back and said crying, "Don't leave me Mommy". I felt scared and helpless and completely unmoored. If it hadn't of been for some wonderful friends who came to the hospital to wait with us, I would have completely broken down then.

But I was still terrified. Scared that my little girl, who had never known a moment's suffering, may have cancer. To be there for my daughter, I once again disengaged my mind from my heart and endured. I babied her after surgery. made her soup and gave her the little "sick" bell, cuddled and watched movies. All while studying for my finals 4 days later. I refused to let my mind go to the big C word and concentrated instead on her recovery and my studies. When the surgeon told us yesterday that the path report came back benign and the chance of recurrence was extremely low, I felt so thankful and relieved. Once I knew that my baby was going to be okay, I allowed my mind to go to all the possibilities that I had shielded from my thoughts for the last week.

And then I fell apart. And am still trying to reassemble the pieces.