Dancing in the Weeds (a Poem + a Photo Essay)

wading through stuffies

dirty fingernails

after a hike in the woods

sibling unity (for now)

the upstairs toys and the downstairs toys

(mixed) in tiny collections

all over the house

smudges on the windows

and holes in the walls

joy in the shadows

dancing in the weeds

life in the cracks, in the unexpected places

My days are a constant tension between cleaning up the toys and noticing all the magical games they’re playing, fixing the holes in the walls and remembering my kids are just little people making mistakes like the rest of us. They are filled with piles of laundry and counters covered in dirty dishes and leggings full of holes and floors piled with crumbs that beg for my attention while little people run around demanding the same.

As I spent the last few weeks paying attention to light, to the things it illuminates about motherhood, I mostly noticed how full my house and my days are of (noisy and messy) reminders that they're filled with little ones. Sometimes I lament those reminders, complain about them, wish them away. Other times, I feel sad that they’ll someday be gone, replaced by clean floors and no tiny socks in the washing machine.

But when I look past all that, what's left is evidence we do a lot of living and loving here.

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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Illuminate."