"Hey, it's so good to see you. Sorry my house is a mess. I've been trying to clean but my kids keep creating messes that I can't seem to keep up with."
You would have been polite and said something like this,
"Oh, don't worry about it. It looks great. It's so hard to keep a house clean with kids."
Not. Anymore.
Now you come over and I try not to say anything.
I own it. Did you hear me? I OWN it.
I am a mom.
I choose the little feet before the little messes. I choose the building blocks before the building frustration.
There's one thing that occupies my mind each day.
"In 15 years...what will I regret the most?"
It shapes me. It haunts me.
I know I won't regret a messy house, but I will certainly regret a missed moment.
I will regret not pushing my child on the swing, or playing tackle football in the yard. I will regret not going to the park or playing in the mud. I will regret yelling. Or losing my cool. I'll regret not pushing trains around the track and not memorizing all the names of the fiercest dinosaurs. I will regret not putting down the phone when they ask me a question. I will regret not making them mow the lawn. I will regret not letting them light fireworks in the driveway and matches on their birthday cakes. I will regret not letting them struggle to solve their own problems. I will regret not laying down at night with each child in their bed, reassuring them of my love. Even when they ask me not to.
I try to spend my days doing the things I hope I will never regret. Not the things I hope you see.
You will see my house and you will see my kids.
If you happen to see the sacred stain on my painted walls, I just want you to know,
I will not apologize.
I choose them.
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