“Take your shoes off! No food on the carpet! Don’t leave the door open, you’re letting all of the bought air out!”
These are the expressions of my childhood, things my father would say, we would roll our eyes and then obey. Growing up, the most common complaint I heard from him of this kind was about the carpet. It didn’t matter that it was stained in several places already. We needed to respect the carpet.
It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I realized how much it bothered me that my dad had such a love for our carpet. My eldest sister’s cat had pee’d on it. My older siblings had rubbed purple sunscreen into it, hoping that the sunscreen would turn clear (that’s what happens when you rubbed it into your skin after all). It didn’t matter how bad that carpet got, we still couldn’t bring food onto it or wear our shoes on it.
Then we moved in with my dad’s father.
Oh the fit he threw when he found out our rabbit Might have pee’d on his carpet. It didn’t matter that I had been caring for her in her final days, or that she died on the floor next to my bed. She Might have ruined the carpet.
And just like that, I forgave my dad.
When I became a mom, I promised myself I’d let go of the carpet. I am a lot like my dad and my grandfather and that particular trait wasn’t one I wanted to pass on. My kids got older though and before I knew it Big Brother was two. I got lucky with him. He kept the destruction to a minimum. Then it was Little Brother’s turn, and he has been a whole other story.
I walked into their playroom to a sight that too easily set my blood to boil. One of our story books, a lift the flap Jack and the Beanstalk book had been torn to shreds. Every single lift flap had been pulled entirely off the pages. This wasn’t the first time a book had fallen victim to Little Brother. His two year molars are pushing through so most of our books had already been confiscated due to his incessant need to chew on them.
I had two choices in that moment. I could have screamed at that little boy. I took a breath instead, and collected my thoughts as I gathered up the pieces. As I grabbed the clear packing tape and began putting the book back together, piece by piece, it hit me. This was my carpet. If I could justify the money for it, I’d throw away every duct tape bound book in this house and replace them, and I’d do it again and again. I like our books to remain perfect. It’s important to me.
As I continued to tape up that book, my sweet two year old looked at me with those blue eyes and smiled his mischievous smile. That was my moment of clarity. It’s time to speak a little softer and love our little ones who will learn with time. It’s just a carpet, they’re just books, he his so much more than Just my son.
It’s time to let go of the carpet.
Do you have a carpet you’re holding onto?
Kim Goodrich is a military wife and mom to three sweet little boys. Her home falls somewhere on the crunchy spectrum with baby-wearing, co-sleeping, breastfeeding, cloth diapering, and homeschooling. Learn more about her by clicking Meet Kim, or head over and chat with her in the Naturally Inclined Moms Community.
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