Ode to a Messy Kitchen

When I walk through the door, you are waiting,
patiently, quietly. Your mess grows and grows.
You never clean yourself, although I am forever hopeful.
Dishes, dolls, diaper cream, and deviled eggs.
I just never know what surprises you will hold.

I sigh a lot.  A whole whole lot.
I turn off lights and “let it soak.”
I leave the mess for morning.
I leave the mess for after lunch.
I leave the mess for after the kids are in bed.

I clean you, leave the room for 2.3 seconds,
and find you dirty again.
You have real talents in that area.
But, try as I might I just can’t hate the mess.
Nope, I can’t hate it.

Because the mess says Blessings.
It says Full Tummies.
Those fingerprints?  They say Precious.
They say Time-is-Going.
They say Someday, Mama,
It’ll Be Easy to Keep the Kitchen Clean.

But, not today.

So I see you, messy kitchen,
And I learn to live with the imperfection.
I learn to accept the Legos on the floor,
the stuffed animals in the cupboard.
I learn to love them.
I learn to cherish the chaos.

Because one day, messy kitchen,
you will be clean and I will sit quietly
and I will dream of sweet singing voices in the next room
and feet running to find me.

But, today, I’m so thankful
That my only dream is a clean kitchen.
Everything else is right here.