Out of chaos comes order

Judging by the coloration on the bottom of Sofia's socks at the end of the day, I'm guessing the floor's not such a healthy place off of which to eat. But that's what we do alot of these days. Ok, not me, mostly the little one, I dunno about Manny, I only have one pair of eyes and only so much superviser-ly energy. 


My dirty floor plagues and terrifies me constantly now, thanks to Sofia's sampling.  This afternoon, she confirmed my suspicions that she actually prefers food off the floor when she took cheese from my hand, immediately threw it down, and promptly picked it up and shoved it into her mouth. It's as if she throws food down there to develop her special brand of seasoning. Over time, the layers are going to build up to perfection for rolling her food in. Cause you know mama won't have a chance to mop on a daily basis, or, ever!?


AND she is the one constantly pointing out to me every little thing that needs to be picked up. "Mama, there's a stray bit of Kleenex I ripped up with my mouth and threw on the floor there. Mama, come on! Mom! Aren't you going to pick it up? Cause if you don't, you I'm gonna eat it, and this time I'll swallow." (translated from "Mmm buh a;slieruapowjndf;lkj dukah")


My days lately feel like nothing but an endless cycle of urgent cleaning. It is a race against Sofia, hoping my sponge makes it there before her tongue. Or my quick snatching of a toy before she steps on top of it and topples over. Or a desperate grasp of some fragile piece of dish-ware or piece of electronic equipment before she grabs in, harming herself and breaking the object all at the same time. She is so tall, so agile, so quick. I fear I am no match for her. But I keep at it as best I can. And I trust. 

I trust that every time I return an object that she has thrown/toppled/transported to its proper place, I am teaching her something about order as I patiently watch her unravel our lives back into chaos over and over again. I trust that with each block tower she rips apart, she's learning something about building up. I trust that with each book she tears off the shelf, she's learning something about reading. I trust that each time she drags that bath towel from the bathroom into the kitchen, she's learning something about function. 


And I trust that each time I put these things back, every day that I engage in this tedium, that she's learning something about purpose. That sometimes, when we're fulfilling our purpose, it doesn't look so glamorous, it doesn't feel so good. But sometimes, it is in those persistent acts of drudgery that constancy is learned, dedication is discovered, sacrifice is submitted. Out of the chaos of grimy feat, messy house, seasoned floors, hopefully we can order up some love.