I’m outnumbered. There are three of them, and one of me. Even when the big man is home, we’re still outnumbered. But right now it’s just me. And I’m trapped beneath one of them, who lately will only sleep while being held. That means the other two are free, wreaking havoc on their bedrooms, and all I can do is hear it. Oh yeah, and they’re wearing winter hats that are too small, and I’m worried about the pressure it’s putting on their heads. Something is banging against the wall, probably chipping the paint. That means my husband is in pain somewhere, and he doesn’t know why…..or maybe he does know why. Poor guy.
Children do more to prove the laws of thermodynamics than any physics experiment. I spent countless hours in science classes and labs learning the theories and equations proving entropy and what not. It always made sense, but it never hit my core until I had children. Make that until my children would dump their cookie crumbs on a newly vacuumed floor. Which begs the question, who in the world puts carpet in the kitchen? Why did we buy this house???
My husband will come home from work, look around, and think he can tell what kind of day we had. If it’s clean, he thinks “good, they had a good day.” If it’s a mess, he thinks “yikes, the tiny humans are at it again.” In reality, the house gets cleaned about three or four times a day. What he sees when he walks in the door depends on where we are in the cycle. To confuse him even more, sometimes, the kitchen is a disaster, but the living room and bedrooms are spotless, even sparkly. Sometimes all of the floor areas are picked up and vacuumed, but there are handprints everywhere else. It wasn’t like this when we didn’t have children. It wasn’t as much fun either.