Post-Holiday Pandemonium

Fact: My house and my life are always SO much messier after a holiday weekend.

Fiction: I always handle this beautifully.

Our living room is a war zone, peppered with pink Legos, stuffed animals and cookie decorating supplies. Emerson has decided she LOVES cookie decorating supplies the very most, and her new hobby is transporting them from the pantry to her pretend grocery cart. Which actually seems pretty intelligent. But she doesn’t always make it to the grocery cart, so the floor often ends up looking like a Christmastime crime scene. Also:

Our bathrooms are all caked in sand.

Bathing suits and towels and board shorts seem to be popping up everywhere.

My cupboards are empty (save frosting and sprinkles) because I usually grocery-shop Mondays.

I didn’t start that book I’ve been meaning to read.

But of course I found time to watch The Bachelorette.

Overall, I feel flustered and frustrated that things aren’t IN ORDER and my routine got MESSED UP. That one EXTRA DAY, with all three of us AROUND and just MESSING THINGS UP, ruined EVERYTHING.

But I just stopped to kick myself before this negative thinking spiraled out of control.

Because, WHY is my house a mess? WHY wasn’t I stocked up on bananas for breakfast this morning? WHY am I behind on the laundry, the lists and the Legos?

Because of the JOY in my house and my life all weekend. Because of days at the beach and time as a family and sounds of “Da da!!!” filling our house. Because of the freedom we have in this beautiful country, thanks to the ones who have fought for us.

I’m an interesting combination of Type A and mad scientist. I think, there NEEDS to be order, but in actuality, there often is not. Or rather, I save the order for the non-negotiable areas in which I can’t function without it: writing/work, my house, my relationships. The other parts often suffer: my purse, my car, my pantry.

You can see how I might drive myself nuts.

But I’m going to let go of my expectations a bit. Stop hating the noise and the mess—and embracing the JOY that spawns them.

Because the noises and messes mean that people love me; that I have a family to care for; and that while we constantly complain about living in Arizona, I mean inland Irvine, we still live close enough to the beach to go every single day if we want. Oh, in the world’s best country. Any complaining is NONSENSE.

Plus, it’s summer now—and I have a feeling that the sand and the pandemonium are only just getting started.

Now, I best go buy my family some food.