Today we spent the majority of the day what I first called cleaning. Then I realized I wasn't just cleaning. The housework I was doing symbolized a transition from chaos to calm. What a reassuring revelation during this rocky weekend.
Our bedroom was my primary target. It had been filled throughout the year with items we had to take away from Rose as consequences. Or items we had to keep away for fear she'd hurt herself with them during her fits of temper and extreme attention getting ploys. (In contrast, even though her defiance and sasssiness this week has been hard, it hasn't elevated to us hiding our sharps or electrical cords. So yay for that.)
Anyway, in the past year our room had begun to feel like a make shift pharmacy slash nursery. I found myself either stepping over hydrogen peroxide or finding Orbees in my pajama drawer. And until last year, I didn't even know what Orbees were. It seemed like the room had become the epitome of the uncertainty and chaos filling my brain. I couldn't empty my brain so I couldn't clear the clutter. Nothing was making sense. Until today.
Today, thanks to the fabulous progress Rose has made, the bathroom stuff went back where it belonged. My clothing drawers contain only clothes. Oh, and the pile of pictures, Rose's art, and Rose's report cards, her lost tooth, and partially started scrap book I swore I would keep up are now tidily placed in a storage bin. I'll get to that, eventually. I won't let its sprawling chaos guilt me in the meantime.
Best of all, Rose has a place in my life that makes sense. Motherhood isn't an awkward stumble or trip over misplaced obstacles any more. It isn't perfect, either, as my closet can attest, but it's as orderly as I would hope and becoming better than I envisioned.
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