Letting Go

I'm learning to let go. I'm letting go of my preconceived notions of beauty. I used to think a beautiful house meant everything in its place, everything clean, a pleasant smell when you walk in the door, and perfectly decorated rooms. Today, my definition of a beautiful house is quite different. My house is covered with toys, dust builds up on bookshelves, and I'm pretty sure my house smells like poop. But I think it's beautiful. Scattered building blocks and dust covered picture frames mean that my children have a Mommy who plays with them and doesn't ignore them to get the house clean. And as far as a perfectly decorated house? Today, beautiful interior decoration is a paper chain. There is great beauty in colored construction paper stapled together. There is beauty because when I look at it, I see little hands covered in marker scribbles, crooked circles which turn into "bapples", and marker tips getting smushed with each pounding. I hear two little girls singing "Winnie the Pooh" with me at the top of their lungs, giggles after making funny faces, and shouting over our marker-sword fight. My paper chain is beautiful. My house is a home.