Stop, drop, and play house
I can’t right now, I have to make lunch.
I can’t right now, I have to change sister’s diaper.
I can’t right now, I have to clean up the mess from lunch.
I can’t right now, I have to do a little work on the computer.
I can’t right now, I have to go to the bathroom.
I can’t right now, I have to fold laundry.
I can’t right now, (insert reason here).
These were all of the responses I gave to my daughter’s persistent question, “Mom, can you play house with me?,” before I gave an exasperated “OK.”
Her eyes lit up. “Good! I made you lunch in the toy room, come see!” I trudged up the stairs, annoyed that the baby wasn’t napping, exhausted from being up with the baby three times the night before, frustrated that my productivity would be virtually nonexistent. I had stuff to do. Things to cross off my list. I didn’t have time to “play” house when I couldn’t keep up with the house of my own.
But when I saw what she’d done in the toy room, I was hit with an arrow of conviction in the heart. While I was groaning and moaning and worrying about not being a “good enough” mother, wife, and many other roles I fill, my preschooler had made seven course meal on her little Dora table. Five plates and two bowls. Plastic food sat neatly along with silverware and tiny teacup, ready for the guest of honor…me. So, I just decided to go with it. I sat both cheeks firmly on the ground, instead of perching and pretending to be in the moment, when I really wasn’t. I nibbled on cinnamon rolls, french fries, and carrots. She poured me tea, curtsied, and asked me about my day. She was full of grace and love and patience, when I lacked all three. I didn’t deserve this treatment, but she gave it anyway.
And before long, it was over. She was ready to move on to something new. While my house was in a state of chaos all around me, dishes to do, laundry to fold, floors to clean, I glued my butt to the toy room floor and ignored it all. I chose to enjoy a moment, instead of spinning my wheels. My house isn’t clean, but my daughters are happy. And I suppose messy floors are easier to deal with than messy hearts.
Aw, this made me feel weepy. What a beautiful reminder of what our children really need.
Love your blog Cat! I so enjoy your willingness to share your life. Love the mindfulness that you are raising your girls with. Speaking as the mother of two teens and an almost-a-teen, please know that these days will fly by. Soak them up every single day. A clean house is overrated! You are a wonderful momma!!
This warms my heart, so awesome!
I am teary now, because this hit entirely too close to home. My 9-year-old still asks me to play. I still put her off. In fact, a few times, I’ve even rolled my eyes at her constant asking. I’ve tried not to audibly sigh but I think maybe I have. I keep telling myself that soon, too soon, she’s going to stop asking. And I will be asking her if she wants to do something with me and she’ll have her friends and external interests and she won’t have time. It hurts sometimes the way her eyes light up when I say yes (because she is not expecting me to say yes. Ugh). I am trying, genuinely trying, to say yes more often (or, at the very least, to say not right now, but in 30 minutes (and then actually sticking to it)).
I hear you! I am trying to say yes more often, but it’s so hard when so much needs to get done. Yes, it’s going to go by way too fast.