As you know we are home from the hospital now. The husband, the little lady and I are all recovering. The baby, who was the patient in the hospital, seems to be the only one adjusting just fine.
When it comes to the hospital we are just exhausted. Long nights, early morning, lots of stress, uncomfortable sleeping conditions, driving back and forth constantly, and being away from the little lady for long periods of time. It takes it’s toll.
Now, add shock, grief, and a wide range of emotions from losing a loved one.
My father-in-law lived with us for the last year. I hadn’t mentioned it previously on this blog, just to keep his privacy. The day after he moved in, I discovered that I was pregnant with kid #2. But the good news is babies are pretty small, so he was able to stay in our room. Now, my father-in-law planned to move out by the end of the year so in January there was loose but definite plans to move the baby boy in.
Now with my father-in-law’s passing, and the end of chemo, we decided to move the baby boy in sooner than later.
A fresh start.
Boy howdy, do we need a fresh start.
About 3 dozen new gray hairs and probably 10 years older, this last 6-months has been rough of the husband and I.
Just a bedroom move for the baby had turned into a week long whole house redecorate.
I crave a new environment, like a post-breakup haircut. It’s drastic, impulsive, but absolutely necessary.
So yesterday we painted and mostly moved the baby into his room.
The painting was done by noon. It wasn’t done well but it was fun. The little lady, the awesomist little girl around, painted side by side with me for hours. She occasionally took breaks to chow down some oatmeal, but she chose hanging out with me over Jake and the Neverland Pirates. Now that is love (although I think probably more of a love of painting than myself).
It was a good time had by all. The baseboards came out rather smudged to say the least and the ceiling now has some abstract splotches on it, but honestly, to have a morning where I could relax, get quality time in with my daughter, while doing something for my son, and moving this family in the direction of healing: it could be a crayon drawing for all I care.
When I look at those imperfect splotches I will see hope. I will see our family banding together and moving forward.
That’s what this week is. Moving forward… Recovering. We have been through an emotional war it feels like. I know, its dramatics all over the place here at The Bad at Cleaning, and you thought you would get posts about how the new toilet cleaner doesn’t work because I can’t read instructions or something. Well, melodrama for you.
At first, to be honest I wondered if we needed to redo the room. Take our time. Get some white paint to fix our mistakes. Paint over the cross Addie made in blue on the green wall.
But no, this is our home. A little messy is okay. Not in the way of myhomealwayslooksclutteredandlikeahorderliveshere but in a wearehumanandhaving fun kind of way.
Sadly my house typically looks like the hoarder version of a mess. Slowly we are going through it all. Slowly we are getting more disciplined. Slowly we are living simpler. But I digress.
As I looked at the splotchy light socket cover, I debating how much I should care.
In the end I chose good memories over stressing. Hope and happiness over disappointment that once again my lack of skills or discipline messed up one more thing for my family.
I, like most moms, want to make things perfect for my kids. When I can’t I am devastated. It hits right to the heart of who I feel like I am as a person when I can’t be the parent I think I should be. I know I am not alone. Moms (and dads) take on making our kids world perfect a little too much and make it a little personal.
But while painting, my daughter instead of learning how to do it perfectly or watch me do it by myself when the she makes a mistake and I get frustrated (mistakes are like breathing to a 3-year-old), I chose having fun. Letting her spend hours working on making her baby brother’s room “beautiful” and “clean” (blue walls = clean). Not getting mad when she painted a cross on the wall because: a) I technically never told her not to and b) she is on a “I want to learn about Jesus” kick, and loves crosses because they remind her about Jesus. How stinkin adorable is that?
It was the perfect imperfect painting day. Sometimes the experience is worth more than the finished product.
P.s. Someone remind me of this in 3 years when I am so sick of looking at the same splotch on the ceiling, and am slowly going insane.