The stacking cup on the stair.

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Mess.
I’ve always had a talent for creating it, (luckily for me I married a man who seems to have a talent for cleaning it up) but having a daughter has brought a whole new meaning to the phrase organised chaos.

Where is…? Is a common question. The answer, however, is never common.

Where is my hairbrush?
In Noah’s Ark, with your other hairbrush. They went in two by two.

Where are my car keys?
Under the sofa- I wanted to see if they fitted.

Where is that half eaten biscuit?
Inside the radiator. Did you know that it fits perfectly through the grill at the top?

Where are my glasses?
Behind my back Mummy. I really love them so I am hiding them from you.

Where is your cup?
On the floor behind the sofa- I told you I wanted boob not water and you didn’t listen.

How did your stacking cup end up halfway up the stairs?
I took it up to have my nappy changed. I changed my mind halfway up.

How has the remote control ended up in your toybox?
You left it in reach Mummy, not my fault.

These are questions I have found the answer to. There are many many more that as yet remain unanswered. I choose just three for your entertainment.

Why does bathtime octopus keep moving?

How did my reusable breastpad end up in my marking pile?

How has the largest of the stacking rings disappeared from the face of the Earth?

The thing is. You see the biggest problem isn’t actually having a messy baby. It is being a messy person and having a messy baby.

I’s not just her mess. It’s my mess, plus her mess, plus the extra mess I create because I am too busy having fun and parenting to take time out to tidy. That makes for a whole lot of mess indeed.

And do you know what? I don’t care. I love the mess. I love what it represents.

I love that each carefully placed block or cup represents a smile from my darling girl.

Each abandoned book signifys a moment spent reading and the joy it bought her.

Each half eaten biscuit is a reminder that my angel is healthy and well.

Each hidden hairbrush shows that my daughter’s brain is developing, that she is now understanding in and on and under.

Each stacking cup strewn across the floor is a giggle, each bear is a memory and each item of clothing is a moment of happiness.

Thank you for the mess my darling. Thank you for opening my eyes to what really matters.

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2 thoughts on “The stacking cup on the stair.

  1. made me smile – yesterday I found all 27 toy soldiers hidden in my welly-boot. They have been AWOL for a while now. xx

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