The Volcano of Chaos (a.k.a my life)

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I sit at the computer, wanting to vent about my present chaos, as frustrated squeals erupt from downstairs. Older brother teasing. Again.

{Why is it that I would rather sit and write about the chaos, than work on something to fix it all?}

The kitchen is… well, …  A. Complete. Disaster.

E suddenly spurts a bloody nose.  I spend time blotting blood from the carpet, hoping that I remember to do that for the stained clothing too – the tights, the shirt. While down on my knees on the carpet I notice a spot in the corner where the kitty cat has subtly regurgitated her food at some point… I need to get to that stain too….

While she is dealing with her nose, and I blot up blood from the carpet, K asks me to open his valentine that he had made. I open it and exclaim praise for the wonderful, large card containing lots of empty space, and one word “Mom” and then lots of x’s and o’s. My heart is welling up. But his lower lip begins to shake and shiver and the tears burst out: he has lost the “inside” of his card – a heart. It is somewhere between our house and the school down the street. I try to reassure with a hug. Poor little guy.

As he is crying, E emerges from the bathroom with a large wad of t.p. stuck on her nose and promptly falls down the last few steps into the living room. She is crying, very loudly.

I try to console both of them and big brother decides that altogether too much attention is going towards siblings, so he begins yelling in my face about his latest question: “Mommy! Mommy! Which way does cold air go?”

“What?” I’m yelling back… in frustration of course, since I can’t hear a word he is saying with the other two crying on my lap.

Finally the crying abates and then I need to deal with a broken necklace –  find a container for it – and am interrupted by a desperate voice: “Mommy! Help me put on this tattoo?” Why is everything so immediate, and so desperately important??

The tattoo operation is interrupted by someone else needing the scissors, which have been misplaced again.

Requests seems fast and furious, piled one on top of the other.

I need to get supper started, but the counter by the sink is full of dirty dishes from exploits of last night’s valentine sweet snack creation, as well as remains and containers from lunch bags, dumped by the sink to be washed. *Sigh*

My eyes train over the rest of the kitchen counter, with piles of artwork, projects that I have had to abandon half-done, interrupted by someone’s “emergency”. The half-done projects and tasks taunt me as I begin dishes.

D has now decided that he has figured out a great way to discover what happens when a lava explosion meets a glacier and he wants to try it right away. (Just like this morning when he wanted to learn about how to create a fire from two stones. We read a story about a man who spent years trying to figure out how to do it… and he wanted to do it immediately. )  “Mommy, can we please do the experiment? Please??”  (Um, lets see, do you want dinner tonight or…. ? )

A disappointed son goes away and the other one comes up to present me with a picture for his uncle. I interrupt meal prep in order to catch the story of the picture and record it. I know that if I don’t do it right away, it won’t get done, and I will have forgotten the sweet story of a young one’s imagination.

When I used to feel a need to blow off some steam, I used to escape into exercise. But that is not so possible with children in the picture.  More than likely I end up with chocolate in my mouth, or ice, in order to do something with my nervous energy. I am madly crunching ice cubes…

Little girl presents me with (yet another) creation of hers. They are wonderful… but so (overwhelmingly) numerous. They end up piled on the kitchen counter. And eldest son comes up with yet another question for me: why does the ice in my water crack and melt, mommy? The scientist within wishes to abandon dishes and dinner to hit the computer in order to answer this latest query. But hungry tummies must be quelled.

I suddenly remember the half written e-mail responses that await my return in my draft folder; I see knapsacks and valentines strewn everywhere in the living room; I need to finish a project that was started this morning in the bedroom, that was abandoned in favour of snack, and other errands; the mess is crazy around me; I need to hit the cold cellar in order to fill up the rice jar agai…

The kids come up from downstairs with another request – help them to tidy up the craft mess they just made. Another mess! Not really what I need right now.  {Please, no more requests right now.. please?}

what does God say in the midst of my chaos?

Be still and know that I am God

What?  Like, right now?  You really want me to try to still my anxious and cluttered heart in order to be still and acknowledge your presence in the chaos? How?

I begin to conquer the chaos, one dish, one moment at a time, knowing that God lives with me through this present chaos.

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2 responses »

  1. Great idea with the “be still and know stuff”, otherwise (and I was fully expecting this as I read the line-by-line descent into familial-everyday-madness and the other joys of motherhood) right when you are at the absolute pinnacle of maternal insanity, in walks hubby who cheerfully inquires if you’ve “done much today”… whereupon Mom’s eyes widen, her mind goes blank, she has no recollection of anything she said or did… but there really is something of interest to check out on the 6 o’clock news now… surprisingly, right over in her part of the town!

    Although I know it doesn’t seem like it now, “this too shall pass” (and ultimately, faster than you thought it would). Keep loving like you do… it’s one of the few things that really can change the world… continued blessings to you on the adventure! (And keep writing… you’re good at it.)

    • lol… I know that it will pass all too quickly and in a few years I’ll be wishing for the days when a hug could cure someone’s tears.

      Thanks again for your encouragement, Gord!

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