Four kids felt like four hundred kids this morning. It was all I could do to stay sane amid the screaming, singing, shouting, giggling, and shrieking. Somedays I wonder if there's a way to wear ear plugs without looking like I'm actually wearing ear plugs. The girls get super offended if I don't pay attention to them in the moment they demand it so ear plugs would definitely get me in trouble.
I walked upstairs this morning to find all the blankets removed from the hall closet. I nearly lost my mind. (There are generally a lot of sheets and comforters inside.) I'm not going to lie about it; I might've yelled, "What the he....," but I stopped myself before actually finishing that word. The last thing I need is to have Mya ask her teacher, "What the hell?" She already uses "crap" a little too well so I'm trying to plug my mouth before I get either of us into too much trouble. I looked in both rooms and found a myriad of forts and tunnels and piles everywhere. They were all strategically placed between the tossed clothes that dotted the dirty carpet. Summer has done a number on my crazy cleaning anxiety. I asked them politely to clean it up, but they decided not to listen. They were busy doing whatever it was they were doing and couldn't hear me, or at least that's what they told me. So I marched back downstairs and took a few very deep breaths because uncontrolled messes coupled with poor listening really eats me whole.
I called for the girls to get their clothes on so we could get out of the house (mostly because I needed fresh air), and we took a rather long walk in this sticky, summer heat. I felt the frustration melt away as we raced down the different sidewalks. I resolved to let the messes stay. I've only got give or take 10 days before school starts, and shouldn't I be grown up enough to let them enjoy the remaining days of summer? Shouldn't I? I think that would be very big of me. And after I made that silent resolve, the afternoon has gone so much better. Like 100 times better, except for when Mya dropped the marshmallow she was roasting over an open flame, and we had a bit of a sticky situation on our hands. That was a little stressful and dirty. But I got over it.
And now with the house quiet, I am reminded that my 4 girls might seem like a mighty army, but they cannot get me down. They no longer feel like 400. And I no longer feel crazy.
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"Be kind and considerate with your criticism... It's just as hard to write a bad book as it is to write a good book." Malcolm Cowley