My house is a mess 99% of the time. Our tables and furniture are always cluttered and covered with baby toys, board books, sippy cups, and various other objects that Em has picked up from somewhere in the house. We call it Hurricane Emerie. Most days I try to pick things up and put stuff away after she goes to bed (because really, what's the point when she's awake and running wildly through the house?). Other days I am just so tired from working all day that all I want to do is lay down on the couch or curl up with the computer and blog or pin recipes on Pinterest after she goes to bed. Those days I feel guilty. Guilty that things are out of place, that the dog hair didn't get vacuumed up that day, that the toys didn't make it back in the toy baskets, or that the dishes are still laying in the sink. But as I reflect on the day, does all that stuff really matter? Memories were made in the messes.
I'll remember the evenings spent sitting on the floor reading books and knocking down Lego towers. I'll remember her giggling while she fed the dogs from her highchair. I'll look back on her excitement when she discovered all of the new "toys" in the tupperware cabinet. And that's what life is about. Memories in the messes. So tonight I am savoring this beautiful mess.