I confess, I am kind of a priss. Not so much in demeanor but in my avoidance of dirt. I am not a germaphobe and I have no issue with the things I can not see in dirt (like e-coli or what not), it is the mess that I see that bothers me. (If you have known me since high school or college and have seen my room you will know that this has NOT been a life long problem.) I somehow have come to equate pristine with serene. When everything is in its' place then all will be peaceful. (I don't know where I got this.) I don't like it when my kids' faces are dirty or their clothes for that matter. I don't like to make a mess and I don't like to play in the dirt. I am not an outdoorsy girl. I am not even a sporty girl. I like to watch sports but I still have traumatic memories of doge ball and gym class.
I am trying desperately not to pass this on to Emelia. I can't tell you how many times I would be sick to my stomach knowing someone was going to ask me to play volleyball at a picnic or softball at a company outing. I don't want Emelia to go through that. So I really try to be encouraging about playing sports and not being afraid of balls and the like. I am not so good about letting everyone get messy. Things have gotten better since Sam came because he is somehow inherently dirty - all the time. I try to just let them be. Messiness is not the end of the world and I am all for letting kids be kids. Emelia does have some priss tendencies - she doesn't like to walk on sand and she is like the princess and the pea if one grain of sand gets in her shoes. Sam could care less - you go buddy.
Today God gave me an excellent opportunity to practice priss-free parenting. We went for a walk around the lake. It is a 3.5 mile walk and then we stop at the playground. It has been raining since Sunday here so there was lots of water. When I tried to be fun and take a trail out to a little island I pushed the double wide through about five inches of mud. So now my tires are covered in mud as are my shoes. Okay, I will deal. We get to the playground and the sand is all wet and Emelia and Sam are shoveling in it. Sam proceeds to EAT a shovelful - with a smile and a few rocks spit back out. Okay, I will deal. Emelia has to go to the bathroom... in the outhouse. Okay, still dealing. Now Sam is covered in wet sand from head to toe and Emelia wants a snack. We head back to the car and I dust Sam off the best I can, I use a wipe to wash hands and I throw in some sanitizer for good measure. I hand each half a fruit and cereal bar. Sam mashes it up and shoves as much of it in to his mouth as he can. The rest he smears in his hair. I give up. We are going to Target, they will look like rug rats and I am just going to have to suck it up and deal. I did just that. We weren't pristine but we had fun, got what we needed and no one gave us a dirty look. The woman at the bakery even gave us a free cookie.
Maybe messy is more fun.
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1 comment:
Messy is more fun (at least as it applies to kids and not to my house)! Besides, why else would God have made kids washable??
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