Ever look at the mess that is you, yours and your home and think

"One day I'll get around to cleaning this mess all up.

And, the kids, hubs and I, we will all clean up our acts, too."

We'll keep a clean house.

Everyone's laundry will be neatly put away.

Our rooms will be tidy.

Everyone will have on matching socks.

Everyone will wipe their noses with tissues and their biscuits by themselves.

Leftover toothpaste won't decorate the sink.

Puddles won't entice us to jump in them.

Slime won't beg of us to play with it.

We'll be able to eat pasta without the massive parmesan mess.

Heck, we will play with our toys and actually put them back where they go.

"One day I'll get around to cleaning this mess all up.

And, the kids, hubs and I, we will all clean up our acts, too."

I think that often.

I look at

the dirty clothes on the floor,

the clean clothes on the floor,

the mixture of both that drapes the dining room table,

the full washer,

the overflowing dryer,

and five hampers filled to the brim,

the mess all over our cluttered house,

and the un-hot mess that I see when I look in the fingerprint-smudged mirror

and I remind myself that parenthood has stages and that the one I'm in now with three young(ish) children,

it's a beast.

But, then again, so am I.

And, when a mama feels like she's losing control of her home and her humans that reside in it,

she accepts her fate,

arms herself with humor and grace,

and keeps trudgin' foward --

even when such requires ninja-like moves to avoid a foot-to-Lego injury.

One day I'll get around to cleaning this mess all up.

And, the kids, hubs and I, we will all clean up our acts, too.

But today's not that day,

nor is tomorrow

or the next.

These are the days for making allowances, letting the less important things slide and tending to those fixed priorities,

like your heart,

your head,

the man you married,

and the children you birthed.