Back before I had kids, Sunday afternoons used to be for relaxing, lounging in sweats, maybe even a little day drinking.
I remember a few glorious Sunday afternoons spent with friends, watching football in the fall or hanging out on the patio with music playing in the spring. Once upon a time, I could spend my entire Sunday snuggled up with a good book, finishing the entire thing before going to bed that night.
Today I spent my Sunday following my children around the house, picking up the mess left in their wake before I was even dressed. I played firefighters with my son- complete with walkie talkies and helmets, and saving two dogs from a fire in our living room. I took my daughter out to lunch and a movie, and then rushed her to the other side of town for an ice skating lesson.
At one point today, I realized suddenly that I hadn’t heard a peep from my son in a while. My daughter was zoned out watching YouTube videos on my iPad, but my son seemed to have disappeared since I last walked by and saw him cleaning the floor under the dining room table with a dish towel.
As I looked around, I realized he was in the bathroom. I checked to see if he was ok or if he needed any help. After he told me he was ok on his own, I went back to washing the dishes (because as an adult, Sunday’s are now for cleaning). A few minutes later, he emerged and continued to play in his fort.
The next time I went into the bathroom I found an entire roll of toilet paper unrolled, half on the floor and the other half in the toilet. It took me a good 30 seconds for my brain to catch up and realize what happened.
Once my brain caught up to me, I attempted to salvage what I could from the trail to the floor and then make sure the toilet wouldn’t clog as I tried to flush the remnants of his attempt at wiping his own butt for the first time in ages. After the mess was all cleaned up, I was left with a handful of toilet paper shoved over the empty roll.
I went to find my son still “cleaning” his fort under the dining room table, to ask him why he used so much paper when he went potty.
He responded by calmly telling me that his poop was so big that he needed all of the paper. “It was a doozy”, to be exact.
And then he went back to his work.
As I thought about his answer, I realized how much my life has changed since having children. My Sunday afternoons went from relaxing days of quiet peacefulness to giant poops and almost clogged toilets. From day drinking, to thinking about day drinking. From being able to stay home and read all day to having to run all over town with my kids.
And you know what the crazy part is?
I wouldn’t change it for the world.
When I reflect on my day after putting the kids to bed, I realize that although my life is far from glamorous, it’s my perfectly imperfect life and I love it. I finally feel like I have a purpose in life, and even if it’s messy and stressful sometimes, I know that what I do is appreciated.
At least until the next time my house is in ruins, and I’m dreaming about a cocktail at 10am.