"In the midde"-ing

It was 2:45am. My two men were sleeping like angels. I'd just finished pumping and was standing at the sink washing a few bottles before crawling into bed myself, when I turned around and saw this:

our bouncy swing in the pantry holding a used washcloth and a shopping bag (folded neatly, of course).

And as I went to move the shopping bag (it doesn't belong on a baby swing, after all---but then again, a baby swing doesn't belong in the pantry, does it?), I smiled. I realized this is my life, and I am happy.

I used to think (and sometimes do still think) that things need to be tidy and finished. All the laundry folded, all the drawers closed, every book in its place on the shelf. I honestly get a little thrill seeing pretty things new and clean and neat---before they're opened, even. Before they're used. (If a new box of crayons makes you happy, you know what I mean.)

But I haven't been able to reconcile that idea with the way I actually live my life. Because right now ALL the drawers of my dresser are currently open (and one's broken, to tell the truth---the front got yanked off so now I can't open or close it. I just have to reach in and search around for socks) . . . and there's a baby swing in my pantry that's apparently also doubling as a bag holder. I can't put things away fast enough before there are other things out and about all over the house. A dirty dish always spoils the clean dishwasher I just emptied. And I never make the bed.

I think what I've come to realize is life is not meant to be finished. It's never "over". I will always be in the middle of something. Always. As soon as I finish a load of laundry there are (inevitably) two or three outfits of Buddy's sitting in the bathroom sink because he's spit up or pooped or whatever. The toys get pulled out. The soap gets used up and we need to buy more. The milk is half gone and new bottles are dirty. All these things are cyclical in purpose and meant to be in use. Not on display or packed up in a box. Used. We are, after all, in the middle of living.

I used to think my life of being in the middle, in use, and unfinished was me falling short of the ideal. Other people's houses are so clean and neat it looks as if nobody lives in them. (How do they do that?) But seeing that shopping bag-holding baby swing in the pantry helped me see that I'm happy this way. It's what's going on. And I think it's right. Even in my development as a person I'm always a work in progress. Especially in my development as a person I'm never finished. Life isn't what we do after everything is put away, and I don't need to wait to share myself with others until every aspect of my personality is perfect.

(I'm even going to stop editing right now and click "publish". If I waited until every phrase and punctuation mark were exactly how I wanted them you'd never see this.)