A Metaphor

I spend a lot of time cleaning Leah's play room.  I organize all of her toys--and there are lots of them--making sure that her sushi set contains all of its parts, and her doctor kit is not missing a wayward bandaid.  I gather all of the baby bottles and collect them in one bin, and I make sure that her crayons are not broken and that their wrappers are not peeling.  I arrange all of the dolls so that each has a diaper and clothes on and is placed in a stroller, high chair, or bed.  I spray the white board and wipe it clean and I make sure I remove all of the chalk remnants from the chalk board.

I spend a lot of time cleaning up messes in Leah's play room, but not a lot of time making them.  I want to make messes with her; I need to make messes with her.  I just don't have the time.  Or sometimes, I'm just too tired to make messes.  I am letting those messes happen without me taking part in creating them and I am having a hard time dealing with it.

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