Disgustingly beautiful.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Kids are the most disgusting beings on the planet.
They really are.
The boogers, the snot, the poo, the scabs, the Impetigo, the warts, the spit, the eye crusties, the head lice, the strep, the pink eye, hand/foot/and mouth. . .a few ailments of which we've managed to avoid since having kids. . .knock on wood.
Oh my sweet Jesus, it never ends.
We've had a "cold" most of Fall running amok in our house,
it seems 10 of the 40,000 strains of the 
whatchmacallit virus has taken up space in my nasal passageways
as well as those of my children.
My husband has narrowly escaped.
He attributes his great health to his daily "greens," his nightcap of good whiskey (did I say "cap?"  I meant CAPS.)
Oh, and his huge biceps.
Think I'm going to become besties with Jameson
and start lifting weights again.
Regardless, I couldn't be MORE grossed out by my children right now.
It takes a lot to gross me out or make me cringe.
I feel like I've done it all at this point.
Wiped poop from butts, vomit from carpets, pee from tiled floors, 
cleaning Grace's mangled foot every night for three months after she dropped a 30 lb. dumbbell on it and blew it open.
That 'bout did me in.
And now, I've hit a wall.
These days it literally makes my toes curl to watch Charlie wipe his nose across the sleeve of his shirt.
It makes me want to punch the wall listening to them slurp hot chocolate WHILE snorting up snot at the same time.
The sound of spoons clinking on cermamic, and slurping together?
Should that be music to my ears?  It's not.
Maybe some day I'll look back and YEARN for those noises.
I should sit and relish these priceless moments,
cherish their fat little fingers wrapped around oversized mugs filled with fluffy white mallows.  
F that.  Have you HEARD them slurp?  
I have to leave the room.  It's too much.
I have to draw the line at some point.
They're loud.  And noisy.  Jack's hockey bag smells like a barnyard.
Grace has a wart on her foot the size of Texas.
Probably something she picked up at gymnastics.
Something always seems to be coming out of SOME where on their body.
UGH!
BUT.
Such is life with children.  
It's far from pretty.
Despite sometimes getting lost in the darkest of dark moments,
where the grossness of parenting gets the best of me,
when I secretly want to throw one, if not ALL of my children across the room,
or drive us in to oncoming traffic,
I, AM, GRATEFUL.
Despite the ugliness of green loogies, 
poop-stained underwear,
ear wax and excema,
they are the most beautiful things I've ever laid eyes on.
Some times I look at Jack and see him as a grown man.
I can't imagine him any more beautiful than he is now.
Especially when he sleeps.

We set aside our issues with germs and personal hygiene
and teach our kids how to take better care of themselves.
Teach them DAILY, to chew with their mouth closed, wipe their faces, blow their nose in KLEENEX, cough into the crux of their elbow. . .bring their plate to the sink, blah, blah, blah.
It is our job, our DUTY, to do this.
I remind myself in my moments of pure disgust
(which, again, is often these days,)
that this will soon be gone.
ALL of it.  
Before you know it, there you are.
In an empty house.
Quiet.  Clean.  Boring.
YEARNING for your children's return.
So again, I work to embrace all of it.
The gum smacking, lip flapping, noisiness of parenting.
I can look just past the dirty fingernails
to see the beauty and miracle of it all.
The precious moments between space and time,
where I am reminded by that quiet voice inside, 
that nothing else matters.
Aside from being alive, between being busy being busy,
love is what it's all about. 
Just love.
So I keep practicing that.
More love.  
Showing up to my kids.
Even if it means burying my head in my computer so I can work while they do their thing.
Occasionally glancing up to watch a cartwheel or a Karate chop.
I actually left my computer at home this week.
Ignored my phone in my purse.  And actually WATCHED Grace practice handstands at gymnastics.
WATCHED Charlie through glass, attempt to land a cartwheel.
When he noticed I was watching, he couldn't take his eyes off me.
He seemed SHOCKED that I was ACTUALLY paying attention to him and REALLY watching, yet was BEAMING from ear to ear,
wanting to make sure I saw it all, 
and see how I reacted to every attempt to land on his feet.
My heart broke in to a million pieces and I choked back tears as I clapped my hands silently or gave him a thumbs up after every landing.
Not because he was doing cartwheels.
Because my gaze, my attention, my smile and approval, 
is what they LIVE for. 
And I don't give them that enough.
We think and try to do so much.  When in reality, in doing so, we're missing it all.  Even when I'm "there," I'm missing so much.
Lesson of the week, BE there.  Everything else will and CAN wait.
Fall has come and gone, 
Instagram pics to capture it's memory,
but having left it's imprint in the 8700 leaf bags we packed full on the boulevard, and in our sun-stained furniture.
We have implemented a "no electronics" rule during the week.
Which means no Wii, no ipod, no ipad, no computer, no nothing (for them, not me.)
It's going swimmingly.
Our mornings are more simple.
Their play is more creative and collaborative.
We are on the go most nights from sport to sport,
which is annoying but good.
And we crash hard on the weekends, which is good too.
I'm working my ace off.
Cool shoots in pools. . .
while dreaming of puppies. . .
I dream of a puppy jumping out of a box at Christmas to surprise the kids.  Nevermind that Jack is deathly allergic to most dogs.
Like eyes swelling, asthmatic breathing allergic.
But there are hypoallergenic dogs like this little sweetheart?
Samoyed's?  Really?
If not a puppy, how 'bout another baby?
All this want makes my husband sweat and have panic attacks.
Oh my God.  These damn baby Christmas outfits make my heart hurt.
So much I had to stop my overflowing cart filled with stupid crap I don't need,
to take a pic.
So I kiss, hold and breathe in my "baby" because, hey, we can't have it all.
Oh wait, I do.
Have it all.
I continue to work daily to find a better balance between parental laziness and an insane drive to achieve.
(Oops.  Forgot to make lunch that morning.)
Appreciating the "quality" time I get to spend with my children 
when I'm not buried in the stress of my own making,
even if it's in grocery store parking lots before school, 
while Jack is at play practice.
It is a DAILY practice to check myself, 
to work towards more peace and happiness, 
one that's worth the blood, sweat and tears (and poop, and boogers, and injuries,)
not just for myself, but for my children.
As we enter the season of giving thanks,
I am grateful for it all.

 

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