When I was pregnant with my second child, my husband jokingly said, “What if our oldest is actually the calm one?”
I laughed because there was No.Way. that could be true. Our oldest son was loud, dramatic, outgoing, and often times a bit too rambunctious, so I just knew that baby #2 would be calm, quiet and reserved.
Boy, was I wrong.
Our second son, now 2 years old, is the funny man. I have no doubt that he’s going to grow up to be the class clown. He’s into everything and I literally can’t take my eyes off of him or he’ll discover another way to create a ginormous mess.
He loves to get jars or bottles and empty the contents onto the carpets or furniture in the house.
Baby lotion. Baby powder. Peanut Butter. Shampoo. Toothpaste. Perfume. Hair gel. Vaseline. Baby wipes. Bubbles. The contents of any and all cups left within his reach.
Our carpets have seen better days.
“Mom, come look at your son!”
That is never the way I want to wake up, and whenever the five-year-old says something like that, I know whatever I’m supposed to be “looking” at isn’t going to be good.
This morning I responded to those words and entered the kitchen in time to see my youngest atop a chair, his hair greasy and glued to his head, his body slippery and slick, and my kitchen covered in the contents of an entire bottle of dishwashing liquid. An entire bottle. *sigh*
The five-year-old was laughing.
“What are you doing?!” I’m freaking out, mostly because my baby is standing on a chair.
His little hands were held out to me. “I’m dirty, Mama.”
Now, you might be getting all judgy with me at this point, thinking, “why doesn’t she just keep this stuff out of his reach?”
We’ve tried. No amount of height or locks or hiding can deter the child from finding something to make a mess with. He is the mess-maker. He is a force brute storm one-man mess making army.
And yet, I can’t help but love him. Even though he’d christened himself with dishwashing soap, I carried him to the bathtub, washed him off, and allowed him to re-start his day clean and fresh. He then refused a spoon and ate cinnamon cereal with his bare, sticky hands and then rubbed them all in his hair.
The smell of cinnamon lingered all day. I used it to remind myself that fall is coming.
Becoming a parent was the greatest thing that ever happened to me to help me understand the love that God has for each of us, his children.
No matter what kind of mess we make, God cleans us off. No matter what amount of dirt we manage to cake on, he rinses it away and gives us a fresh, clean start.
And no matter how many messes we make or what sort of filth we manage to create, the redeeming blood of Jesus Christ washes us clean and brings us to our Heavenly Father, from whom we can never be separated.
Love like that is a gift; it’s mercy. I’m reminded of it every time I clean up behind my little hurricane.
Yeah, I’m reminded of it a lot.
Share with me: What is the worst mess one of your children has ever made? How has parenting changed your view of God?
Hale and Hearty Words 