Too old? Or too blessed?

Last night, I was having an internal meltdown.  My family would say it was not so internal, but I digress.  I came home after the longest week ever to a dirty kitchen, at least 10 loads of laundry that needed to be done, unmade beds, floors that needed to be swept and mopped, a playroom and a little girl bedroom that you couldn't even walk through, and dogs.  Dogs that stay outside all day long....for sometimes 12 hours a day...and yet insist on emptying their bowels and bladders on our floors.  With a weekend jam packed from dawn to dusk both days, I didn't know how I was going to get it all done.  So I leapt into action, fixing dinner, throwing the first load of laundry in the washing machine, instructing the big girls to spiff  and vacuum. And while I worked I thought about my Facebook status would be:  "I am overwhelmed by my weekend."

Later, after I had folded two loads of laundry and was waiting for the next load to dry, I was trying to pick through clean clothes, clothes in suitcases (Hannah had played vacation a few nights ago), and the entire contents of both girls' dressers on the floor of their bedroom.  I sat down on the couch to try to relax for a few minutes when it started. It started out low and it started to grow. (name that book.)  The pounding.  On walls, on furniture, on the floor.  Two little girls, dressed in "princess" dresses and my jewelry, hitting everything they could find with plastic hammers.  And again, I thought of my Facebook status:  "I have decided I am too old to have small children, especially those that regularly empty out drawers and laundry baskets, borrow and then break/lose my jewelry, and insist on hitting anything and everything with plastic hammers."

Neither of those became my status, for I quickly declared bedtime and as soon as they were in bed, I retreated to my own messy bedroom and escaped into my book.  This morning, the mess, the laundry, the active, imaginative, LOUD, little girls remain.  But I no longer feel too old.  OK.  I do. Let me rephrase that.  I no longer feel only too old.  I also feel blessed.  For how many of my friends are lucky enough to have little children at our age?  How many of my friends long to have even one child, realizing that their window of time is quickly closing, and would love to have the chaos that reigns in my house?  How many of my angel mommy friends would love to hear their child, who has gone on to be with Jesus, would kill to hear the footsteps and hammering and yammering of a young child?

I am not too old.  I am overworked, overstressed, overwhelmed.  I live in chaos, mess, noise.  I live in house that daily reminds me that I am not organized or disciplined enough to conquer it, that reminds me daily of my housewifely shortcomings.  I will never have enough time, energy, or skill to achieve perfection or even a consistently clean/orderly home.  But I am not too old. 

I am too blessed.  So without further ado, .....

81.      Little girls who run around hitting things with plastic hammers, empty drawers and laundry baskets of all their clothes, and try on my jewelry to play “princess” and then break or lose it.

I am indeed too blessed.  Happy Saturday, everyone!