A few weeks before Christmas, one of my friends graciously hosted an evening for a few gals and all our kids to get together and decorate Christmas cookies! As I often do with many things in my life, I romanticized the idea of it. When we started talking about it, I imagined all of us smiling and laughing as we sported holiday aprons and rolled out sugar cookie dough. In my fantasy, all the kids were having the time of their lives and enthralled with the sprinkles and food coloring, creating the cutest and most delicious Christmas goodies there ever were.
What really went down looked a little different than that. The kids worked on about one cookie each before abandoning their posts at the kitchen table for toys and games in the playroom instead. In the playroom, Caleb promptly bit one of his friends and had to be quarantined in time out. When I asked him why he bit, he simply replied “because I did that.” Classic 2 year old logic. Without the help of our children, we forged on to make cookies, puppy chow, Oreo balls and more. Once in a while, a kid would pop in to empty an entire food coloring tube onto one cookie or enthusiastically cover the kitchen table with sprinkles. It was crazy. And it was still just as wonderful as my unrealistic fantasy.
At the end of the evening, in the wake of disastrous kitchen, I thanked my friend so much for hosting. Granted, my kitchen wasn’t the one destroyed which might make it easier to say this, but I told her, “This is my happy place.” In the midst of chaos, kids running around like wild animals, creating something with our hands, letting the rules slide (WAYYY too much sugar was consumed that night), and not getting worked up or stressed about any of it. All of it just made me smile, even if it looked a little different than we had originally planned.
A few days after Christmas, those same feelings were echoed when I had a house full of kids in my own home. A friend had to go back to work while her kids were still on Christmas break, so they came to hang out here with me and the boys. I was outnumbered 5 to 1 with kids ranging in age from 2 to 6. The day included coloring, race tracks, playing outside and only a few time outs. It was chaotic and fun, just like our cookie decorating night. There’s just something about things being a little messy and on the verge of out of control that makes me feel content.
When I was working full time, and the busiest part of my year would approach, Evan could sense my stress level rising. He would always comment on how weird I was, because the busiest and most stressful part of my job was also one of my favorites. Looking back, it was probably due to that part of my personality that thrives on a little bit of chaos.
As a parent of a child with a disability, I’ve heard over and over how ‘God only gives special children to special parents’ or some version of that same sentiment. No offense to anyone who has expressed that to me, because I know it’s coming from a place of love and support, but honestly it’s always rubbed me the wrong way. The fact that my son faces extra challenges doesn’t make me any more capable as a parent. But perhaps there is something to the idea that some parents are uniquely suited to care for their kids. Maybe coping with chaos is a strength I’ve fine-tuned over the years so I can put those skills to work taking care of my sweet boys. Or maybe it’s just a survival tactic???? Either way, I’m content to sit right here in my ‘happy place’ and soak it in. All of it—the joy, pain, messiness, crazy schedules and love, oh so much love!
“Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”
Philippians 4:11-13