I fully recognize that there will come a time when I’ll reminisce about the random bits and bobs that clutter my home—like that small drawer filled with “googly eyes.” I realize that someday the absence of that overflowing bin of cleats and mismatched shin guards in my basement will evoke a sense of nostalgia. These items will serve as reminders that my children have grown and moved out. I get that, but today is definitely not that day.
This morning kicked off with an enthusiastic “Oh, look at the clock—4:30 a.m.! Jet lag, you’re a delight.” It was one of those days where I accomplished enough before 8 a.m. to make even the toughest military sergeant shed a tear. The prevailing thought today was “I have a different idea of cleanliness than the kids do,” which echoed in my head throughout the morning.
Just 17 hours after returning from my peaceful escape with my partner, the kids quickly reminded me why I was grateful for that time away. The morning was filled with an energy that screamed, “Don’t make me wish away your childhood with this constant fighting.” I had a brilliant thought: “How about we actually put things away after using them…ALL THE WAY AWAY?”
Midday outings were punctuated by a near meltdown in the car, as I thought, “If I have to hear another screech from the backseat, I might just lose control of the car.” Bathroom breaks were an exercise in frustration, as it seemed there was always a surprise waiting for me.
I found myself ignoring the incessant questions about snacks and screen time, vowing that this time I was really on the verge of losing my mind. Today was a stark reminder that my quest for organization clashes with the reality of having children. “Why do I even try?” became my silent mantra.
Dinner was a battle over spinach, with me lamenting, “It’s a shame you don’t like spinach because it loves you.” The bedtime routine devolved into a repetitive chant of “Brush your teeth. Did you brush your teeth? Please go brush your teeth.”
I genuinely believe that one day I will miss the chaotic sound of little feet running around in the early hours. I know that to be true. But for now, the day after my trip to Amsterdam is certainly not that day.
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In summary, while I acknowledge the future nostalgia for my children’s youthful chaos, today’s reality, just after returning from a much-needed getaway, is one of overwhelming noise and disarray.