Control

I like order.  I prefer structure.  I am better if every event, appointment, and outing is placed neatly on the calender in bold black letters. . . at least one week in advance.  I like to know what is coming, when it is coming, and what I need to do to be prepared for it.   I prefer that my house is in order, too.  I like when all items are in their designated place and clutter is eliminated.  I tend to get caught up in presenting well and in doing so, sucking the joy out of the moment.  If people are coming to our house, for example, I will race around the house in a panic touching up, straightening, and perfecting until the final moment when I hear a knock on the door.  I will then open the door with a calm smile planted on my face like I’ve been sitting and reading a novel awaiting their arrival, while my husband and kids are caught in the whirlwind of my anxious activity. 

Spontaneity?  Not my style.  Surprises?  No thank you.  Having things out of order and in disarray?   Likely to produce a minor panic attack. 

You get the point. . . I just might have a few control issues. . . and I need to lighten up. 

I can’t think of a better way to address this problem than to combine a 3-year old and a 5-year old with finger paints.  Paint, paint everywhere.  Before we started, I gave my list of instructions that went something like, “Be careful not to step in it, and roll your sleeves up, and here are brushes if you don’t want to get your hands dirty, and please don’t mix the paints, and don’t drip it on the floor, and watch your clothes. . . ”  Blah, blah, blah. . .
 

I’m pretty sure I caught them rolling their eyes and I know they were thinking chill out!  And with the first “paw print” (Chanelle’s words) I was chilled. . .

In a moment, I was captured by their laughter and drawn in by their enthusiasm.  As I watched the paint begin to cover their hands, and then coat their clothing as they tracked it through the kitchen I found myself only hearing their “look at this Mommy’s” and not seeing the mess. 

It’s a funny thing. . . control, I mean.  What I have learned over the last year is that while there are many things within my control, there are also so many things that are not.  I realize that I can spend my entire life trying to create the perfect setting or preparing for this event or that one and in the end. . . surprises happen.  The unexpected will come my way and I will deal with them. . . not control them.  I want to be the kind of person who is able roll with the unexpected and not be rolled over by it. 

I guess what I’m trying to say is that as I looked over this scene with paint coating the floor and my children I only felt one emotion. . . joy.  Not one ounce of anxiety at the mess, not one regret for just letting them dive in. . . only thankful that we had shared this afternoon together.  So thankful, in fact, that I added our work to the art on our living room wall. . .

. . . and I think I’ll leave it up to display for the guests we are having tomorrow. Yep, I’m chilling. . .