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Not Normal, Not Sorry

I think everyone wants to feel normal or to know that the way they feel is normal.  Hopefully, I can give you some reassurance that being abnormal is...normal.  What most of us are allowed to see of other people's lives whether it be an Instagram feed, Facebook post, or even the little time we spend together is generally the best version of ourselves.  Case-in-point, I cleaned my house before company came for dinner last Thursday.  Aside from some dishes and a quick sweeping of the floor, I have done nothing since.  Today is Monday.  Currently, every room of our house including the hallway, both bathrooms, the entryway into our house and the back porch are littered with toys, clothes, suitcases, dirt, and garbage.  And the occasional dead fly.  This is life. 

It's not that I don't strive for a nice, clean, organized house and family, but that is not currently my reality.  I started to do laundry, and somebody was hungry.  I was cleaning the floors and somebody needed wiped.  I thought about picking up toys, and then I realized that no way in heck was that going to be my job, but  the boys were playing so nice outside (key word: outside), that I let the toys lie.  Then I did deep Lamaze style breathing so I wouldn't loose my crap as I tripped over another tractor sitting in the middle of the hallway.  Totally normal.

This evening while I washed dishes - the one thing that I can't totally ignore, I watched the boys sit next to each other, cross-legged next to the chicken coop.  They chatted, and giggled, and fed the chickens grass.  They were sitting in chicken poop.  I don't think they noticed, and I didn't care.  Despite the ants scurrying across our counter chasing the crumbs that I had failed to wipe up after lunch, my heart was full.  This is our normal.  It's messy, but I like it. 



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