Chores and errands seem like shoveling while it is snowing when you have littles. Put them in, buckle them up. “Don’t touch that, it’s yucky!” Fighting, crying, whining. “I had just folded those!!!” Unbuckle them, take them out. “No, we can’t get that. I know you want it, but you want everything.” Snacks, sippy cup, more snacks, still hungry.
These days and this work can be monotonous in and out, every day. Sometimes I dream about the day when I will clean the house and go do errands ALL ALONE. It must be marvelous. Then again, these boys do have a sneaky way of adding little sparkles of joy to the monotonous. Maybe when I am doing it by myself one day I’ll remember how getting Boston dressed every day used to be such a tantrum until I started letting him wear all those awful hand me downs he loved so much. My laundry folding consists of army tank shirts and shorts with permanent marker stained drawings of lighting. I’ll remember how I often walk in on him giddy with excitement and laying EVERY. SINGLE. ITEM. OF. CLOTHING. he has on the floor because he can’t decide which shirt he wants to wear. I walk in at night to peek on him sleeping, and his arms are usually wrapped around some shirt with a super hero on it that he is planning to wear the next day.
I will remember how Bennett loves to put all of my decorative pillows on the ground while I do the dishes. He then pulls my wet hands over to the blankets, telling me to finish the job of laying them out for his nice poofy landing area. He jumps off the couch over and over again, landing face down onto my favorite pillows that were once nice and puffable but are slowly becoming flat and saggy from all the tiny feet. He laughs and screams and yells, “Blast off!”
I will remember how both the boys would look at me through the window like I am the best comedian they have ever seen/love of their life as I played peekaboo with them while we fill up the car. I squat down so they can’t see me and then jump up and do weird faces and they laugh like they never expected I would do something so great and silly, even though I just did it one second earlier. I’ll remember how in the winter I would blow on the glass and draw little messages for them and they’d giggle and squeal with delight. I used to hate getting gas, but now I just feel like the most loved girl in the world with each fill up.
All of Boston’s favorite shirts are my least favorite, but I have a feeling they are the ones I will save forever. That brown one with a huge orange T-rex on it and weird lettering plastered all over will definitely bring me back to the days where Boston called himself “Stomper” and stomped around the whole house like a T-rex every time he wore it. I can’t stand that my pillows are all flat and wrinkly looking now, but when I see them sagging on the couch part of me smiles thinking of Benny “Blasting off!!!” When I am getting gas all alone maybe I will try to imagine how loved I felt just from playing peekaboo.
These kids make most every day things a lot more work. They also make the every day things seem not so every day. A little laughter, a little joy, a spark of happiness, a small memory can be bottled up with every grocery trip and laundry session. Doing all these errands by myself one day might be a lot less of me thinking, “Wow! No car seats, no whining, no fighting!” and a lot more of me remembering all the sweet tiny silly moments when everything was a lot more work.