MY Sanctuary......

When I was younger my family moved about every 5 years. We left Idaho when I was 7 and moved to Western Washington. When I was 11 we headed down to Southern California. Then when I was 16 we headed back up north to Central Washington. I actually stayed in close contact with the friends I'd made in W. Washington, so when we moved only 4 hours away, I'd often drive the distance to visit them. I remember the summer after I'd graduated high school me and my friend Misty headed in that direction to get out of town. We were planning on staying with one friend in particular. As we pulled in the driveway we noticed about 10 cars parked in the cul-de-sac. We discovered her parents were out of town so this was to be the weekend hang out. We were all good kids so it wasn't one of "those" parties. Just a bunch of kids with free reign of a home. We hung out in the hot tub, played games, and ate a lot of junk. On Saturday evening a huge water fight broke out in the kitchen between the girl that lived there and about 5 boys. Me & Misty ended up on the front lawn watching it all go down. Pretty soon the parents pulled up. They were home early for reasons unknown. We had a clear shot of the kitchen windows, so we watched the whole thing unravel. The reaction from the Mom is the one that surprised me. She didn't yell and scream for everyone to go home, or send anyone out of the house. She started to cry. Then she started grabbing towels and cried while mopping up the wet mess left by teenagers having a little fun. Misty and I left shortly thereafter. I have always wondered about this reaction from this Mom. Why the tears? Now I'm the mother of 4. Nobody needs to explain to me now why she had this reaction to a kitchen full of water. I too have cried over my kitchen. My house is my sanctuary. Sure, kids will be kids, but I still don't like to see my new leather ottomans tipped upside down and jumped on like trampolines. I don't like when Landon uses the water and ice on the fridge to make rivers run through the tile grout. I don't like it when Jack pees all over the back of the toilet seat because it makes a cool splash. And I really don't like it when the kids use crayon or marker to color the carpeted stairs. I've already had to leave the computer twice in the few minutes I've been blogging. Once because Jack tipped the La-z-boy over and was catapulting his body off it onto Ethan, and once because Kennedy used a light saber to knock over my Jesus picture which fell behind the entertainment center and scratched the wall on it's way down. I now understand the tears in the kitchen while silently mopping the sopping wet floor. One day maybe my own kids will understand what it means to take care of the home in which they live.