I looked around my house yesterday and saw a bunch of things that need to be done. There are walls that need painting, carpets that need cleaning, pictures that need to be hung. There's a hockey bag in the entryway and a soccer bag in my kitchen. There's laundry to fold and bathrooms to clean.
I looked around, and I wondered if I would ever get to it all. Right now, it seems like between work, homeschooling, keeping up with the middle-schoolers' homework, running the girls to practice and games, and carving out some time for my husband that I barely have enough time to sleep and eat.
As I looked around my house, I realized that my home will never make the cover of House Beautiful magazine. It's not a showpiece. It's the place where we live. And for this season of our lives, it looks well-lived-in.
But as I tripped over the soccer cleats for the fifteenth time this week, I also realized that I don't need a showpiece. I need a place where my family can live, a place where they feel comfortable, a place where they feel loved.
The truth is that I'm not Super Mom. I can't do everything. I have to pick and choose.
Eight years from now there will be plenty of time to paint the kitchen, clean the carpets and hang the pictures. There won't be cleats in the hallway or half-finished games of monopoly on the living room floor.
Today, though, there are soccer games to go to, hockey games to cheer at, children to teach, and memories to be made. If that means the walls are scratched, the floors a bit dirty and not everything is in its place, so be it. I'd rather be present for my kids and husband than miss something important because I was trying to live up to some unattainable standard. These days won't last forever, and I don't want to miss them while they're here.