True Love

Many much greater than I have attempted to define true love. A favorite Shakespearean sonnet says, “Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. Oh no! It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.” If you have ever been to a Christian wedding, chances are that you have heard a reading from I Corinthians 13 that expounds upon the attributes of love. And those of the Christian faith will point to the cross as the ultimate picture of true love, sacrificial death for someone else’s benefit.

 

Today, I was inspired with a new definition. It may be blasphemous to say given the preface here, but I gave my boys a taste of true love this afternoon: I let them play with play dough in the house for hours!

Can I get an “Amen!” from any other type-A, neurotic, clean-freak moms out there? Actually, I USED to be that, but motherhood has cured me of it mostly. Pre-kids and pre-marriage, I could eat off my bathroom floors, even in my roach-infested apartment my first year of graduate school. I made Mr. Clean look dirty. Once you live with a boy though, things change for the benefit of marital happiness. And once you have kids, things change even more for the benefit of mental stability.

However, recovery is always lifelong, and I am reminded of my neurosis every time the kids want to bust out the play dough. The boys love play dough, and I must say it is a SUPER toy for kids for so many reasons. Thank you to every thoughtful friend and family member who has graciously given some to our grateful boys. But, it does pain me to see all the little pieces everywhere. They stick to clothes and end up all over the house. It’s all I can do to let them just play and enjoy without constantly standing over them with a ball of play dough, punching up all the loose pieces that constantly pour down all over the place. I bite my tongue after thinking 10 times is probably enough for them to hear, “Please don’t make a big mess. Be careful! You’re making a big mess!” So today, I let loose and let them go at it full force, reminding myself that their creative juices are flowing, that life is short and I need to let them be kids, that I shouldn’t rob them of great fun, etc., etc. But I won’t say it didn’t at times KILL me. Oh, how I love them, and they will probably never know just how much.

At least they look cute making a mess, and they are having loads of fun. Look at the floor though, do you see all those little future dried up play dough pellets?! No? Let me show you.

Yes, I took a picture of the floor. Don’t judge. This blog is called “confessions” for a reason.

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7 Responses to True Love

  1. Jen Beckett says:

    🙂 Way to go Mom! And I’m looking forward to reading more from your blog. Confessions are important and good!

  2. Eleanor Gray says:

    Oh, I feel your pain. Though you are definitely more of a neat freak than I am (as you well know) even I hesitate to allow the playdough inside. I usually wait for a beautiful sunny day and send them outside with it. Needless to say, they are getting many fewer playdough days in Washington than they were in Arizona!

    • shmelly, i become “freakier” in grad school when i lived alone. without roommates to watch dawson’s creek and eat mint milano’s with, what else to do but scrub? 🙂

  3. yeena says:

    heh heh.. hilarious, leslie! i actually love that you took a picture of the pellets. i dislike play dough too.. and i’m not that anal about cleaning.

  4. Stefanie says:

    what a funny post! i’m quite a type A, ocd person so this is an inspiration for if/when we ever have kids:)

  5. Pam says:

    This is random, but as I was reading your blog I thought: I really like Leslie! 🙂 If there is a “I love Leslie Beckett” Club, please know you have a new member.

  6. Pingback: Michigan Summary | Confessions from Momville

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