Morning Ah Ha's

This morning I had a great Ah Ha Moment. As I scanned the kitchen and my family, each one jetting about doing their own private morning ritual, it dawned on me that I'm doing it all wrong. OK, well not ALL of it, but some of it.

Here's my daily cycle:

Get up, get the kids moving.
Start the kids on breakfast or getting dressed, depending on whether or not they are eating free breakfast at school.
Pack lunches.
Hurry to the table to read scriptures.
Get everyone out the door for school so they can arrive 30 minutes early (they REALLY like to get to school super early, don't ask me why).

We either ride bikes or take the car, depending on the weather and the after school activities schedule.
I arrive home to a disheveled home, full of breakfast dishes, clothes from the prior day's ritual nightly shedding for pajamas... newspaper strewn about the living room.... dad's snacks from watching football.... my untidy mess of shoes (I NEVER put my shoes away)... toys randomly mixed with school papers, homework and yet ANOTHER fundraiser paper from school...

I stare at the mess, shrug in frustration at the futile efforts of keeping a tidy house and amble off to my clean bedroom for an hour of watching TV, reading a book or napping.

About 9ish I decide that as much as I want to be a lazy couch potato, it's just not in me to leave a messy house. So I get up and start the day's inventory of to do's. I steadily work my way through house cleaning chores, laundry, grocery shopping, random yet necessary errands and somehow 2:15 comes way too soon and I am back at the school picking up my angels.

We flit from home to play to homework to after-school activities. About 5:00 I start panicking (yes, I do this EVERYDAY!) about what I'm going to cook for dinner, recommitting to getting an earlier jump on dinner tomorrow. Somehow I get dinner together only to play unsympathetic ear to the many and varied complaints from my family about what I have chosen to prepare.

Yesterday's meal was french fries and frozen chicken nuggets, by request from my aforementioned angels. I never put out purely prepared frozen food heated in the oven at 425 degrees for 12-17 minutes, but acquiesced. Lee wasn't thrilled at the prospect, so I made creamed tuna on toast for him, which I  don't really care for, so I made myself a salad. Proud of my ability to please the crowd, I plopped down into my seat at the table only to discover that I had failed to purchase more ketchup, and dinner was on the verge of ruin. Of course, not two bites into the meal, I was allowed the honor of holding audience to the symphony of complaints about the french fries I had chosen to purchase and cook (at 425 degrees for 12-17 minutes). "Mom, you shouldn't buy these french fries next time." "Yeah mom, they're too spicy." "What ARE all those little black things on the french fries mom?" "Mom, do I have to eat ALL my french fries?" "If I don't eat ALL my french fries, can I still eat my Halloween candy after dinner?" You got it folks, somehow, after preparing three separate meals to please the family, I managed to screw it all up!

So, we clean up dinner dishes, I go for a run and come home to find Lee helping the kids with homework (thank you dad!). I set up Family Home Evening, we have our lesson, have ice cream, I scoop Cooper up off the carpet where he has fallen asleep during the lesson, get ice cream dishes into the sink, tuck in the girls and plop down onto the couch with my laptop to watch my shows with ear plugs while Lee watches Monday Night Football. 15 minutes later he is snoring, the TV is blaring and I decide that my bed is a better place to finish my show.

Finally, the day is over. The house is destroyed again. The dishes are only partly done by my sweet children who do the dishes every night, but never quite up to my standards. The table and counters are still littered with crumbs and the sink is half full of pots left to soak (ie, left for mom to handle). The living room is once again strewn with random bits of evidence of the life we live: twizzlers laying halfway out of the package on the table next to dad's recliner, keeping company with a half drunk glass of squirt, separated into layers of squirt and melted ice. Children's socks turned inside out lay in small piles. Half finished book reports echo 4th grader questions in my mind as I walk past; "Mom, do you think this is a good conclusion sentence?" The dog stares at me expectantly as the rest of the house sleeps...."Please take me out, just one last time?" I finally make it to the bedroom, but the cat is reluctant to relinquish his.... no make that MY spot in MY bed. Lights out so that I can listen to the snores of my exhausted husband, who has spent the day working for his family, only to come home and spend his evening doing homework with his kids.

Morning begins again, deja vu like, as we repeat the cycle. So, what's my morning ah ha moment? Before I started writing, my ah ha moment was that my kids should spend part of their morning helping me recover the house. This morning I had them helping me separate dirty laundry. I THOUGHT my ah ha moment was that they should be helping me more. Though I haven't changed that realization, my moment of clarity has shifted, after writing this post.

Here's the amazing Kitty thought for the morning.... none of those daily details that I've so carefully crafted in a written devotion to the disorder in my life are really all that bad. Actually, they aren't undesirable in the least bit!

Waking up to a house full of children means that our life is full of LIFE. Watching kids bustle about the house in seeming disorder and chaos is  a sign of vibrant life, of healthy children. How blessed are we to have healthy, happy children?  Cleaning up breakfast dishes (again!) simply indicates that our pantry is full, our bodies are well fed. We have the means to purchase food for our families and the strength to prepare and serve it. Standing amidst the disorder of the home, shrugging my shoulders and climbing into bed for an hour is only possible for me because my husband works hard to provide for our family, so that I can stay home and be available for my children and husband. If we weren't so well taken care of, I'd simply be leaving the chaos behind closed doors as I too hurried out to join the masses of the work force. Instead, I am able to  pace myself, choosing which tasks to conquer at my own whims and desires. 


Of course it's not all peaches and cream. We take our lumps as they come. I'd rather be in China. I'd rather be soaking up the culture, complaining abou the filthy and smelly city and the rudeness of Chinese people, who for some unknown reason, refuse to conform to my ideas of a polite society. However, the Lord has seen fit to have us here. People keep telling my to Bloom Where You're Planted. Maybe I'm not quite ready to embrace that saying just yet, but at the very least, I can be thankful for the amazing things that the Lord has provided for me and my family.