A perfect disaster.

The other day, while our egg dying activity started spilling over onto our 10-year old kitchen table, staining it while Jace rather eat the hard boiled egg than actually decorate it, I said “our life is a disaster.” Then Rob corrected me and said, “ no, it’s a perfect disaster.” And honestly, those words couldn’t be truer. Life is going to be messy for awhile. Dirty coffee cups are going to stack up. We’re going to stain some wood. Jace is going to cry. Over everything. Walker is going to take fifty poops in a day (or so it seems at least). I’m going to wash my hair once a week. Rob is going to put off homework. Our kitchen is going to be a shit storm every day. And our house is going to smell like wet dog. It’s a disaster but it’s perfect just the way it is. And life feels lighter knowing it doesn’t have to be anything it’s not right now. One day we’ll be able to cook a meal without garlic bread burning. One day. But for now, I’ll take the disasters as long as we’re all together.