When she breaks out the tubes of chapstick and it’s all good and dandy fun until you walk by the front door to discover the chapstick’s all over the window….bless the mess.

When it feels like you just wiped that stainless steel fridge door clean, and then you look down to white handprints all over it…bless the mess.

 

When your dear husband put the shoes away neat and tidy in the shoe bucket and in rows on metal shelves in the mud room closet, and then you find them strewn all over the place all over again…bless the mess. 

When you JUST got all those toys picked up – back in the basket, back on the shelf, back in the toy box – but before you know it, they’re everywhere, all over the place…bless the mess, just bless the mess.

When there’s laundry to do, like piles and piles of laundry that just won’t stop, and pieces just keep showing up here and there and everywhere, and you keep pushing it through and pushing it through but it never seems to end…bless the mess.

When you can’t seem to get out from under that kitchen table – it’s where everything goes that just came in, where everything goes that’s gonna go back out, where everything goes that’s gotta go somewhere – it’s just a table full of things that need to be managed by a mama…bless the mess.

When there’s peanut butter globs and crunched up crackers strewn with orange pieces, and the chairs are full of it too…bless the mess, just bless the mess.

When the sink never seems to clear of half-eaten cereal bowls, unrinsed yogurt cups, peanut butter knives, milky sippy cups, greasy pans, and used up coffee grains…bless the mess.

When the grass stains, mustard stains, mud stains, chocolate stains, marker stains, grease stains, red kiddy lipgloss stains, and just about everything else stains won’t stop…bless the mess, just bless the mess.

When the mail pile never goes down, and you keep working and working at it, but for some reason, it just never, ever goes away like you want it to…bless the mess.

When you finally do manage to get that mess picked up and it’s all clean just the way you want it (let’s say once or twice a year?!), but it’s back to mess in a matter of minutes anyway….bless the mess, mama.

When you realize the mess for what it is – proof you’re living, proof you’re human, proof you’re mama, proof you have beautiful little and bigger ones roaming the halls of that home…bless the mess, just bless the mess.

Amy

*This post is part of a month-long series titled Motherhood Unraveled. To read more from this series, click here and read to the bottom where all the posts are listed and linked!