I'm a bit of a neat freak. Just a bit. (Insert husband laughing hysterically behind me. He's the guy who likes to knock my magazines slightly askew on the coffee table so he can watch me straighten them.)
I blame it all on infertility. See, when I couldn't control anything else in my universe, I could control the state of my house. Three years of that, and you have a woman who likes things neat. Too neat sometimes.
When the toy room floor starts getting covered with stuff, I have to start cleaning up so we can walk. I'm ok with this. It's a safety issue, right? =)
But today, I didn't clean up right away. And it was awesome!
Seth and I played with his bin of pinto beans on the floor in the kitchen, and despite his best efforts, playing with them meant that a lot of beans got on the floor. And I didn't sweep them up. I made him lunch around them and all the cups and cars he was playing with in them. And it was just fine.
We played outside with the roller coaster on the driveway after lunch, and I didn't waste time cleaning up the lunch table before we went out. No biggie.
So after I took him up for his nap, I could look everywhere in the house and see the evidence of our activities. There were the beans and trucks on the floor, there were the crumbs of his grilled cheese sandwich, there was the place on the changing table where he spilled beans after trying to pour his "chocolate milk" (beans) in his baby brother's mouth (Evan's ok, and I'm not freaked out anymore). There were remnants of construction paper on the floor that he cut for me from his first attempt at using scissors. (Should I save them? Maybe...) I could see it all and smile because it meant we'd lived well this morning...
Maybe messy is ok after all...