Before I became a parent, I often visited friends and family with children and was amazed by the level of chaos. Even homes that seemed orderly had subtle signs of mayhem—broken couch springs, cabinet doors askew, and dining tables marred by fork marks. I thought these parents were simply laid-back or had particularly rambunctious kids.
Then I had my own, and I quickly discovered that you don’t need to be neglectful or have wild children for your belongings to take a beating. Kids have a knack for destruction that goes beyond just furniture.
Their Toys
It’s not merely that our kids have shattered their toys; they’ve rendered them unusable for anyone else. Between scribbling their backward names on them with a Sharpie, giving their dolls “makeovers” that involve haircuts and makeup (seriously, how do they always find a Sharpie?), and misplacing half the pieces of every multi-part game or toy, we haven’t handed down any toys outside the family since our oldest was just two years old.
Our Walls
With three kids, we’ve had one aspiring wall artist—pretty good odds, if you ask me. However, they’ve all been wall smudgers. Have you ever examined your walls up close? Trust me, don’t. You might not recover. Alongside the boogers and smudges I refuse to believe are chocolate, I sometimes find footprints on the walls. Footprints! Are my kids superheroes? I think not, yet there they are.
My Definition of “Clean”
Speaking of grimy walls, my standards for “clean” have plummeted since becoming a parent. The house? I gave up on handprints on the glass ages ago, and I’m not even sure I can see dust anymore—it’s so low on my priority list. As for the kids, if I can’t smell them, and they don’t look obviously dirty, I assume they’re fine. Have you bathed this week? You think so? Great, you’re all set.
My Patience
People often claim that parenting teaches you patience, but those folks must be living in a dream world. I was far more patient before having kids. Maybe it’s just that my patience is tested so frequently that I’m more aware of it now. Or perhaps my nerves are frayed from hearing “Mama, Mama, Mama” fired off like a machine gun every single day for over a decade. That must be it.
My Ability to Watch the News
Let’s be honest—little ones don’t need to hear about today’s tragedies. Plus, I can’t handle it. The news is full of terrible stories that suggest the world I’ve brought my kids into is falling apart. Why would I subject myself to that?
My Illusions of Perfect Parenting
This one pretty much speaks for itself. Cue the maniacal laughter!
My Heart
Oh, my heart. A mother’s heart swells and breaks daily—with love, joy, worry, and pain. I often feel like I’m silently exploding inside. The love I have for my kids stretches my heart to its limits. The joy from their laughter or achievements feels like it might just make my heart burst. The anxiety about their safety and my shortcomings shakes my heart like an earthquake. Watching them face hard lessons and heartbreak feels like a physical break inside me. Yet, somehow, my heart keeps beating amidst it all.
So, yes, kids do break things. But not everything they ruin needs to remain flawless. I’m grateful for my illusions shattered and my heart opened wide each day. The walls? Who cares, they can be washed. The toys? They were cherished. My patience? I’d love to reclaim that, but it’s more about me than them. And the news? It’s mostly nonsense anyway.
So, kids, go ahead and unleash your inner wrecking balls. We’ll repair what needs fixing, and embrace the beautiful chaos of parenthood. If you’re curious about home insemination, check out this post for more insights on the topic here. For expert advice, visit Make a Mom and explore the science behind it at the Genetics and IVF Institute.
Summary
This light-hearted piece reflects on the many ways children can inadvertently cause chaos in a household. From toys to walls, the author shares personal anecdotes about the daily challenges of parenting and how it reshapes one’s definition of cleanliness, patience, and even love. Despite the destruction, there’s a sense of gratitude for the experience of parenting and the lessons that come with it.