The Balance I Haven't Yet Found

Tonight, I was headed down the stairs, and there in the "downstairs basket" (where we put items that are waiting to go down with us) were two pairs of socks.

 One pair was mine. I'm allowed to put my socks there because I am the ONLY person who ever grabs things out of the downstairs basket.

The other pair of socks seemed so lonely without my pair. They seemed to ask ever-so-politely if they could come downstairs with me.

I wanted to scream, "NO! I will not touch someone else's sweaty socks. It's bad enough to touch my own!"

Then I wanted to yell "Truman! Go put your socks in the right place!" But he was asleep, so I didn't yell.

Instead, I started thinking: Should I go ahead and grab his socks and stick them in the sock bag? Wouldn't that be a kind act of service? He's not awake to notice, and his brain is not yet connected to his feet, so he wouldn't even think about it if he was awake. But do acts of service have to be noticed?

I have sort of excused myself from doing too many acts of service. For one thing, my body hurts and I am constantly using that as a reason not to bend over and pick up the myriad toys and other items all over the floor. For another thing, I want my children to learn to pick up after themselves so that their future families don't suffer from this same inner turmoil I am trying to describe: "To just clean it up, or not to -- that is the question!"

I laughed when I first saw the note posted by the roommates: "Clean up after yourself: your mama doesn't live here." But now that I'm the mama, I don't think it's so funny.

In trying to find balance, like a see-saw, I definitely teeter on the end of making them do it. I try not to yell about it -- just use a robot voice... and every once in a great while, when I totter and decide to do it for them, I go ahead and tell them (with love) so they're aware that it wasn't a magic wand...