Why I’ll Never Ask Her to Clean Out Her Room Again

There comes a time in every parent’s life when they take a peek into their youngest child’s room and decide they’ve had enough.

Enough of the teeny tiny toys that pierce the tender undersides of feet.

Enough of the stuffed animals covering the floor like carpet.

Enough of the doll clothes strewn like confetti.

Enough of the two crayons and 4 markers randomly located in the four corners of the room. Along with the 15 pieces of tape strategically placed on blankets, dresser, floor, and animals. (What is that all about, anyway? Do I even want to know??)

Enough!

Last weekend, the time had come for this parent.

“Alright Sweetgirl, mama’s all done with this toys-on-the-floor business. Let’s get this room cleaned out.”

This little announcement, as you can imagine, was not met with joy and excitement.

I began gathering all of the things we would need to clean up this mini-human explosion in the purple room down the hall. Baskets of varying sizes (I had delusions of organizational grandeur), laundry basket, big black trash bag that you could fit a human into.

“Why do we need a trash bag, mama? NOT THE TRASH BAG!?!” (The way you just read that last sentence? Not one ounce of exaggeration in how she presented her case against the dreaded trash bag.)

There are some parents for whom a messy room is their child’s problem, not theirs. It doesn’t bother them one eensy bit. They can roll with it.

Unfortunately for Sweetgirl, I am not one of them. You can only close the door on disaster so many times.

We set to work picking up the stuffed animals, first. As I lifted each one, I’d hold it up for her and ask, “Are we still in love with this one?”

I’m happy to report that she made a fairly large pile of stuffies to donate. Her mantra, each time she opted to let one go was, “It’s someone else’s turn to love them.”

Bless. (Her)

Happy Dance. (Me)

We talked through each meticulously curated pile of toys. She informed me, for example, that the lined paper cut into the shape of a haphazard oval was vital to the comfort of her mermaid Squinkie toy. But, that the pink glitter crayon lying beside them both was magical and couldn’t be moved.

Story after explanation after rationalization was doled out, in the hopes that some piles could remain.

Nope.

We finally got to our last corner of the room, when Sweetgirl put her hand on my shoulder and said, “I love you Mama. You listen to my stories.”

And that? That earned her a smooch and a hug. And a nice long break to admire what we had accomplished, so far.

I told her we could quit for the day. But, she opted to finish what we had started. So, we did.

As we finally, blessedly, wrapped up, I started dragging the trash bag of to-be-donated stuffed animals down the stairs. But, I had to pause on the second step. She had made her way into Sweetboy’s room to tell him something “important”.

“I’m a big kid now, brother,” she informed him.

He asked her why.

“Because, mama and I cleaned out all of my little girl toys today. So now, I’ve got a big girl room.”

A tear rolled down this cheek of mine. It was never my intention to clear out her little girl toys. I never anticipated a need to make her room a “big girl” room. But, she saw it as a rite of passage somehow. It meant something completely different, and, well… big, to her.

I don’t think I’ll ever ask her to clean her room out again.

Well played, little one. Yes indeedy… well played.

For When Your Child Doesn’t Fit In

Not_Alone_Creationswap_Richard_Sherrill_Missindeedy

While we all have those parenting moments where we notice something a little quirky about our kids – not all of us have the privilege of anxiously wondering how much that quirk will hold them back socially. And then the day comes when it does.  And that cute little quirk becomes a massive elephant in the room of your child’s social life.  Others notice the quirk(s) and begin to act as if… As if your child couldn’t possibly be liked by very many people because she/he is different. As if they are already on the path to Outcast. As if they are not worth the effort.

And it cuts.

Deep.

My(in)Able & (in)Cluded group of ladies provide a safe place for me to feel those emotions and process them.  Follow me over to my (in)courage community group to keep reading. Click the button below.

InCourage Is My superpower

 

Good Enough

For the days that filling, refilling, and emptying the blow-up pool seems like an endless task; for the days that the string of pleas for another Popsicle bombard you like water balloons; for the moments of weakness when answering questions about why God made kids with allergies might do you in; and drumming up meals for distinctly different and picky palates turns into the carrot stick that broke the mama’s back… For those kinds of days?  I cling to the adage that I only have to be a “good enough parent”.

Back during the time that I was first told that depression and I were going to walk hand in hand for a while; back when I wasn’t sure I was cut out to be a parent, after all; back when I desperately needed to know that I was enough for this life I’d been given, I was reminded that on those particular days, I just needed to be good enough parent to get through the day. I don’t need to be a perfect parent.

That’s an important distinction.  One that I often miss when I set out to do this deeply difficult and important parenting thing.

And this good enough parenting thing? It isn’t for every day.  Just for those daysGod knows we all have them.  And we all know we give God lots of those parenting days, ourselves, don’t we?

But, I’d forgotten this whole principle in my desperate desire to get it right while I’m here. And I about ran myself ragged with All The Trying.

Good_Enough_Missindeedy

And now, I’d kind of liken it to my walk with God.  He doesn’t expect perfection.  His goal is to press us on toward Christ-likeness.

My goal is not to be Christ.

It’s to be more like Christ.

And He tells me that His power is made perfect in my weakness.

And oh, how I give him ample opportunity to perfect His power!

My job?  My job is to focus on doing All The Things as best I can manage.

filling, refilling, emptying, and refilling that pool
providing food one meal at a time
loving the questioner and accepting the questions that I have no answer for

If I do all of those things through Christ who strengthens me, they are all possible.

And I will find that I am, indeed, good enough for the job I’ve been given.