Don't cry over spilled milk

I can’t tell you the countless times I’ve swept rogue cheerios from the floor into a large (ok, embarrassingly large) pile, only have a toddler beeline for the collection of stale cereal, step directly into the center, and effortlessly scatter the contents to all corners of the kitchen.

 

I can’t tell you the countless times I’ve gathered seemingly endless toys that were strewn around the house, carefully returning them to their proper place, only to have the boys take each and every one of them back out at lightening speed, to abandon them minutes later.

 

I’ve built Lego towers that were toppled instantaneously.

 

Assembled train tracks that were dismantled in an instant.

 

Puzzles?  You think those stay put together?

 

I’ve cooked dinners that were thrown on the floor before the first bite was taken.

 

I’m not complaining.  (Well, for the most part).  You can't cry over spilled milk.  Or fruit punch.  Or juice boxes.  Or...the list goes on.

So, I could empathize with Colin yesterday afternoon.  As we drove home from school we talked about getting out the rakes, and making huge leaf piles to jump in. He let out a quick squeal in delight! 

 

After energizing with a quick pre-dinner cookie and juice box snack, Colin diligently raked leaves for a few minutes, then solicited my help to get the most leaves piled up in the quickest amount of time.  He stood back to admire his/our handy-work, and smiled, surely anticipating the jump with giddy excitement. 

 

 

Colin clapped his hands a few times, took a running start, aimed directly for the pile of leaves.

Then out of the corner of my eye I saw it.  A red blur coming from the opposite direction. Jack Rowan. Barreling at full speed for the overflowing pile of red, yellow, and brown leaves.  Squealing and laughing in delight

 

When I looked back at Colin, frozen in place, I saw the tears forming, his mouth opening, "Nooooooooo!"

A struggle ensued and both boys emerged from the pile with tears streaming down their faces. 

 

 

Obviously, it would take only minutes to re-rake the pile. Obviously, Jack didn't know any better. But in the moment, it wasn't obvious. 

 

When you see that smug little smile on your little brothers face, and your perpetually messy kitchen floor (I mean, disheveled leaf pile), it doesn't matter.  You become a little irrational.  So, I get it Colin.  I won't tell you to stop crying, because there are so many times I just want to cry.  Over the smallest things. That in the moment, seem monumental.

 

 But I WILL help you make another pile.  And I'll clean up the toys, Lego's, and cheerios again and again. I'll re-build towers, train tracks, and assemble puzzles. 

 

Because in the grand scheme of things, what's a little spilled milk?  In the grand scheme of things, life is messy.  And your pesky little brother gets in the way.  And toys are meant to be played with. 

 

When I look around our house, the type-A in me cringes.  But the mom in me understands. Throw pillows don't stay on the couch. Toys don't stay in their bins.  Crayons don't stay in one piece. 

 

And its ok.  It's not the end of the world.  It's life.  It's our home.  And it's lived in....

 

But, back to the leaf pile....Colin was still crying, Jack was still jumping in the leaves, and I knew I needed some quick damage control. So I pulled out my go-to mom "trick"... straight-up bribery.  And for the next few minutes, Jack sat contently with a cake pop, Colin jumped in pile after pile of leaves, and I day-dreamed about hiring a cleaning lady.