On any given day, this is what our counter top looks like…
It’s filled with bottles, nipples, and other bottle parts, three different kinds of sippy cups and their respective parts, pacifiers, syringes, bowls, snack trap tops, and more. In fact, I had to stand on a chair to get far enough away from this monstrous pile in order to take this picture. Between my husband and I, we have four secondary degrees, with a fifth in the works, and some days, we are challenged to figure out which part goes with what piece.
Our house is littered with burp cloths (blankies or “nunees” to the boy), plastic doohickeys, toy parts, and random non-toy items that our son has appropriated as toys. I’m not kidding. These are some of his favorite “toys.”
In case you can’t make out what’s in this picture, there’s a red paper bag, a giant calculator, two dead cell phones, a set of keys that, of course, includes a forklift key, an expired Visa card, a backstage pass to Moedown, a Sephora beauty card, an IATSE whistle from my husband’s union days, and two pill bottles. And no, we are not horrible parents! The pill bottles are filled with Cheerios. He likes to shake them. We’re not frazzled enough to give him actual pills to play with…yet. He also has lots of toy toys, but those only add to the clusterf*# of stuff that has amassed in our small house.
In fairness to our toddling tyke, the randomly strewn melange that is scattered throughout our home is not all his. Most days, there are laundry baskets filled with clothes that need to be put away. This is what the closet corner of our bedroom usually looks like…
In my husband’s defense, the bulk of this pile belongs to me. I simply never have the time or energy at the end of the day to tackle this pile, so it usually waits until the weekend (or longer, depending on what we’ve got planned).
We are also a cloth diapering family, so there are often diapers in various states of dryness, and different states of assembly in random places throughout the house. There are usually two or three diapers drying on the back of the couch, a basket full of fully assembled diapers in the living room, and miscellaneous microfiber inserts and assorted empty pocket diapers hiding in corners throughout the house.
Across the board, every aspect of our life could be labelled “some assembly required.” We are a work in progress. It’s not always clear which parts go with what pieces, but somehow, it all works. Somehow, at the end of the day, when my husband and I collapse on the couch amid the mess and assess the day, one way or another, the pieces all fit together. The baby is peacefully sleeping in his crib. The dog is happily guarding her bone. The cats are curled up together on their favorite blanket. And my husband and I look at each other and know that the pieces will all fall in to place as long as we assemble them together.