I just walked into the boys room. A little gasp escaped my lips. My house is quiet. All but the three girls who are playing quietly in their room. Looking at buttons from the button jar. Planning and creating Christmas gifts.
My boys. Oh, how I love my boys. But they drive me crazy. Top on the list is the trail of somewhat mass destruction left in their wake. This is the scene as I enter thier room. It was clean yesterday. I know. I checked. But today, you would never know. I can’t even see the carpet. Not a single bed is made. There is colored Christmas lights hanging hapzardoulsy on the walls, where strands were taped and have since fallen down. Strips of paper litter the floor from a Christmas count down chain that was made. I was on top of laundry yesterday. A rarietry in this house for me. But now, all the clean clothes that were sent upstairs, folded yeasterday, seem to have had war during the night, and are everwhere. Which, will be scooped up and thrown back into the dirty laundry. All rumpled. Looking worn, but never even put on. (I think this is why I can’t stay up on the laundry! ha!) Every light and fan is on. Even the bathroom vent is running. The bathroom…oh, my goodness. The toliet is near overflowing with too much toliet paper and not enough flushes. The water is running in the sink. A whole bag of floss picks has been dumped in the sink, along with paper mache, from the pinata that was made last week. Toothpast smears everywhere. Towels on the floor, the trash is dumped over. I’m sure from some hurried boy on his way out. Toothbrushes (which happen to be a dime a dozen around here, hence WAY too many in this bathroom for the number of boys) are strewn everywhere.
I want to cry, scream and laugh. My boys are gone. They bolted out of bed this morning when their Daddy asked who wanted to drive to Papa’s and get the tractor. They threw on clothes, forget to brush teeth, make beds, and flush toliets. There was a whirlwind of food being scarfed down, shoes being tied, and hats and coats gathered. And then it was quiet.
I am older now. Wiser now. Then I was even a few years ago. This mess, it does not matter. I can turn off the lights, flush the toliet, and shut the water off. Everything else can wait. They are making memories today. With thier Dad. With each other. With thier Papa. They will get to be men today. That’s how Eric will treat them at the shop. They will be given tasks to keep them busy. They will assist Eric in hooking up the trailer and backing up and things like that. Things they will need to know some day when they are older. They will talk boy stuff. Guns, trucks, tractors, what to buy Mama for Christmas. (i know these little gus oh, so well!) They will probley eat at Carls Jr. Papa’s favorite fast food place. They will eat all the snacks Papa has at the shop, and leave him snackless. They have been known to be called the locusts. They come in, hover, eat, and leave. And there is nothing left when they are gone. If it was good! They will come home telling me of all thier adventures and new ideas.
And the room will still be a mess. But they will clean it. Maybe tonight. If I don’t mention it, they will not even see the mess. It feels normal to them. Not me and my “wish this house sparkled and looked like it was out of a magazine” dreams. But as I see them all sleeping toninght, happy litte boys dreaming of all the days adventure, my heart will smile. For isn’t this what living is all about? And if someone comes over today, and wants a tour of this grand old home, I will just smile as we fordge through their room. Laughing and explaing that they left for the day and we did not get our normal, “clean up your room brfore breakfast” this morning. And “boys are just messier than girls”. Whose bed is nealty made and room is clean as I type this. And I never even said a word this morning.