This Moment?

I often find myself reading Soule Mama‘s blog, because it’s lovely. Isn’t it lovely to think about a family in Maine, harvesting their own vegetables and gathering daily eggs from their chickens? Shearing their own sheep, carding the wool, spinning it, dyeing it, and knitting sweaters? Really, it’s inspiring. Sometimes, I put my computer away and go knit for a bit after reading her blog. Or else I open an actual book!

Amanda Soule has a feature on her blog called “This Moment,” where she posts a picture from earlier in the week, no caption, of a moment she’d like to savor.

Usually, it’s her children enjoying one another and the farm, maybe playing an instrument or reading by the fire. I happened to click past her blog last Friday while I hid in the kitchen to give myself a timeout from my screaming children. I gazed upon her “this moment” picture and knew I would probably never experience a moment like that.

Here’s how I remember that particular day:

crying baby

Why yes! We do keep our trash can on top of our art cabinet. Otherwise, the baby eats things from out of there.

I was just about to be on time for our volunteer shift at the toy library. My kids were both wearing pants and sweaters and shoes. I had our bag packed, snacks ready to go, car keys in one hand. I had the four-year-old helping me open the front door, and I heard my toddler asking for “cookies.”

Then! I remembered that he thinks, for some reason, the leaves on our houseplant are cookies. Too late, I turned around to find the toppled plant crashed on the floor, muddy soil and bits of flower pot everywhere.

Then I took a picture because I worried nobody would believe me otherwise.

I carried my wee Felix to the sink to shake the dirt from his clothes and clean out his mouth. Bless his heart, my four-year-old tried to help me sweep up the dirt without my even asking. When I came back into the room I saw Miles flinging it everywhere with the broom.

Days later, I’m still finding clods of potting soil random places, most particularly in the bins under the train table.

I got Felix relatively clean. Once he stopped crying, he tried to blame the mess on his brother, then his father. Then he started crying again, so I just loaded everyone in the car with some popcorn and we went off to our volunteer shift, only a little bit late.

But then I had to come home, not to a sun-kissed, peaceful farm house, but to my dining room-turned-play area caked in potting soil, scraps from breakfast a few days ago, and many different berries ground into the rug. And of course, the kids fought over a plastic bus and started to cry again. Days like that, where I have to hide in the kitchen and sneak dark chocolate and Internet timeouts, I get cranky looking at lovely blog posts.

Sure, if I think hard I can remember moments I’d love to savor about my week, moments where the children weren’t spitting in each other’s eyes or pooping at exactly the same time. I’m almost never poised to photograph these delicious moments.

I think my kids are beautiful and brilliant, but above all else at this age they are messy. Their emerging language is messy, their developing coordination makes them messy, their curiosity causes them to yank down potted philodendron, which makes a huge mess. I often need to see that I’m not alone trying to wrangle the chaos.

So I wanted to show you my real, what “this moment” looks like at Team Lev Headquarters.

Do you have messy days with your children? Leave us a comment to tell us your experience. 

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