Our Life Story is made up in fractions. However, since we forgot everything we learned in third grade math I think sometimes we get stuck and think that PART of our story is going to end up being our WHOLE story. But that's not the case. Basic math tells us that PARTS and WHOLES are very different, and that one piece does not define the whole pie.
I like picking up the mess in my house because it reminds me of the LIFE in my house. A military house can get so quiet, we learn to appreciate the noise when they're around. There have been plenty of times when my house was lonely. Add in the fact that I almost didn't live to see this life I'm living, and the position of gratitude goes without saying. So now that I get to live my life with a spunky, sometimes-spastic toddler, a nervous-Nelly pup, and a big kid trapped inside a man's body, why would I complain? Why would I wish away this stage just to hit the next? Doesn't it all go fast enough?