Motherhood is not for the weak at heart. You have to be on your game at all times. Watching, waiting, and anticipating every childs next move. Be thinking about the two-year old running outside when you are not looking because you left the door unlocked. She can turn the door knobs now. Expect that your couch will get a new design once you hand that chocolate ice cream cone to your four-year old without instructions on where to eat it. So be alert, that is the point, right?
Let’s be realistic. Things happen despite our every effort to be present and paying attention. Human beings are fallible. We make mistakes. Moms are human too. With that said, it is time to talk about the writing on the wall.
Quite literally, there is writing on the wall.
My walls. The ones that were once an off white, neutral, renter’s color are now covered. There is crayon, pencil, marker, and (what is that) pastel. When did we even get pastels? I am distraught over this and feeling various emotions. As I scrub the walls with Clorox wipes, bleach spray, and eventually the magic eraser, I am reminded of my discussions with my kids when we first moved in.
There will be rules
Anytime you move into a new place, there is always that list of policies to live by. We can’t all just run amuck. There are the usual, no fighting, no mean talk, no disrespect to mommy, and everyone has chores. Then there are those weird laws of the house like: no writing utensils anywhere that small children can get to them. This one has always been hard in our living space. My kids just can’t seem to get the markers, colored pencils, and chalk off the bookshelves and out of their backpacks. Little four-year olds love those nooks and crannies that they can pull stuff out of to draw on the walls. They will scribble and doodle on anything and with anything they can get their hands on.
Aside from those pesky mandates I would like to say one thing, and I would never repeat this to my kids, the writing on the wall is really beautiful. They have some talent at two and three years old. And I want them to thrive and be happy. But, my hope as a mother trying to raise them up to be good human beings is to teach them to keep their talents pointed in the right direction.
However amazing what my children did to these walls was, it was not okay.
So, because not all of the art cam off with my scrubbing efforts, I turned to the hardware store. I bought paint, brushes, rollers, the tray and we are going to take a family day to paint over our mistakes and try anew tomorrow.