Why don't the floors stay clean?

It's strange but true, the floors just don't care that I have living to do.

Unfortunately, I am a true Gemini and suffer from the two minds problem. Type A me says, "Get on your knees and scrub that floor soldier."

Meanwhile, Type B me says, "Dude, seriously, it's just going to get shed on five minutes later by the dog. Also, do you see the toddler eating yogurt? Do you think that will end well? How about those kids in the backyard that can not remember for the life of them, to come through the garage and take off their shoes in the laundry room? Let it go, put on a pair of Fairy wings and a tiara and join the tea party that is currently taking place in your daughters room."

Let's be real, Type B is way more fun and usually wins the argument. If only Type A wasn't such a bossy cow.

That said, I have tried little things here and there to take control, to keep my house in that dull roar state of clean. That state that is so precarious, that at any moment it could all give way, fall to pieces and chaos would reign supreme.

In the end, I realize that old adage is true, "Good mothers have, sticky floors, filthy ovens and happy kids."

Which is not to say that those that can stay on top of the house are any less of maternally gifted. Rather, I think it is one of those, don't forget, those of us that lack the organizational skills to keep it all together are kick ass mommas and love our kids to the end of the earth too.

It's one of those sayings that is all about, "We women can do it all and have it all and bake a cake like Martha Stewart too." but it's okay not to be Superwoman. In the end, it's better for our kids to know that we aren't Superwoman, because it's too high a standard for us to live up to, and it's too high a standard for our kids to think that they have to live up to.

I live at the corner of suburbia street and minivan lane...

...where the everyday comments of "He touched my cereal bowl. Can I have the green cup? Daddy I peed in the potty!" are the melody, to the rhythm of slamming doors and stomping feet.

This is life here. It is simple and it is good.

Our kids are 11, 7 and 2 and a half, and also 13, 14, 14, 21, 21, 20 and almost 18. We borrow kids from around the world. Some stay for a season, and some become a part of our lives, and our hearts forever.

We have a dog, a cat, a house, two minivans and a front yard that should get more love than it does.

I am married to my best friend and we constantly try to make sure that in the middle of all the hullabaloo that is raising kids, we stay connected. This whole crazy life is our fault and so neither one of us is going to let the other out without a fight.

Unfortunately some posts will be inspired by potty training, or the like, so if you aren't into urine inspired blogs- consider this your last exit before the insanity starts.

Sometimes the stress of having little ones around, the commitments, the issues, the bills, all of it, can cloud the amazing beauty that is the life of the average young family.

I like that this suburbia, this mundane, is where I am now. Years from now, this house will be quiet. I will long for the simplicity, the complexity, the noise, the conflict, the kink in my back from sleeping on a one inch wide part of my mattress to accommodate all the morning cuddlers. All of that will be gone. Our kids will be off, making a life, or finding their own blissful mundane.

So for now, I revel in this world because I know it isn't forever.
I know that there are those that can not fathom a person not losing themselves within this stereotype, this identity.

The people inside are not perfect, they are hilarious, they fight, they cry, they laugh.

Us parents, damn, we are doing the best that we can, and we know full well that we will probably have to pay at least half of any future shrink bills.

For now though, we follow our heart, our gut and we love them. We love them hard. We love them at school drop off, despite the fact that it is so not cool. We love them unconditionally and we tell them, "No matter what you do, we will love you. We will always love you."

"Even if I go to jail?" asks the middle child?

"Even if you go to jail, but you are going to be on bathroom duty for the rest of your life to work off the bail money."

I live in that place, where right now, the punishment of toilet scrubbing is still enough of a deterrent. So I say again....this is the easy time. This is where it's so good, so common, that it's easy to miss all the extraordinary life.
This is my bliss within the mundane.