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My youngest son’s room is a total disaster zone. Every time I walk past his door, I can’t help but peek in and remind myself of the joy he radiates when I spot at least fifty pots filled with veggies sprouting in all directions. Right now, sticks and twine are strewn everywhere since he just learned to weave baskets from twigs.
Our backyard has been in shambles for weeks. A friend visited recently and gazed at the assortment of garden beds, the half-built fence, and the tree branches strewn about. “How can you tolerate this? I could never manage it,” she said, observing the milk cartons he had lined up outside. I’m not entirely sure what he plans to do with those — I think he mentioned something about creating a mini greenhouse for seedlings, but I got sidetracked by a bucket of clay he was hauling inside. When I inquired about the clay, he exclaimed, “Our yard is full of it. You can create things and even wash your hair with it.” He actually did wash his hair with it. I discovered this when I was checking for ticks one evening and found tiny sticks tangled in his hair.
One side of the garage is completely taken over by my other son. He spends hours working on his dirt bike and four-wheeler, leaving tools scattered everywhere. The pervasive smell of grease and gasoline is a constant reminder of his projects. As for my daughter, she has ducks. I had heard they can be messy, but I didn’t realize just how much until I saw it firsthand. They produce droppings the size of tennis balls every fifteen minutes! Ducks also require fresh water at all times, which means that when they’re out roaming the yard — yes, sometimes they are free — my daughter places water containers all around. They also enjoy mealworms, which she insists on keeping indoors. When the ducks molt, feathers are everywhere; I could easily make a pillow from their fluff a few times a year.
While I do teach my kids to clean up after themselves and the main living areas need to stay somewhat orderly (because I can’t handle too much clutter), I’ve come to accept their messy hobbies. I don’t particularly enjoy the chaos, but it’s undeniably worthwhile.
Sure, I miss my neatly organized garage, but it pales in comparison to the joy my son feels when he tinkers around out there. I miss my backyard too; it’s the sunniest spot on our property, and I love looking out the kitchen window at the lush green grass. However, I now get to watch my son build a fence with cut branches and work with all those buckets of clay.
My daughter can’t imagine life without her ducks. They helped her through quarantine, and she cares for them as if they were her own kids. She spends hours cleaning their coop, giving them treats, and holding them.
Friends and neighbors often question how I can stand the mess that has taken over my home. What they fail to comprehend is the happiness it brings my children. Their hobbies are a source of comfort during tough times, providing a necessary outlet for their emotions. A perfectly tidy home could never match the joy and fulfillment that these messy pursuits offer my family. Why would I ever want to change that?
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