Showing Some Restraint in Life's Buffet

One of my favorite things EVER is a good buffet. I'm not talking about the kind of buffet that they have at say, Chuck E. Cheese, with a bunch of wilting vegetables and luke warm salad dressings. I mean one of those buffets they have at the fancy hotels with silver serving trays and whole tables devoted solely to dessert. It's pretty much my idea of heaven. The only challenge is getting it all to fit on my measly plate. Usually it takes all of my best Tetris skills along with some balancing to make it all fit. It usually looks something like this times ten (I am seriously disappointed in Google images- this was the best they have for images in my search of "loaded buffet plate".... pfffft, I've had better.)

Usually, I am half way through loading up my plate when it dawns on me what a precious commodity my plate space is, and suddenly all of the options seem overwhelming and I start to regret my decision to get noodle salad when I see that there is a tray of chocolate covered strawberries. My plate begins to feel so very small and I spend so much time hemming and hawing- it's about as stressful as food choices get. 

Lately, I feel like life has given me a very small plate at the world's biggest buffet, and I don't know where to start. I love having a full plate- don't get me wrong, but I also hate it when everything starts to melt together and overlap so I can't appreciate each individual flavor. For example, my alone time and personal hygiene are now one and the same. The only time I ever get a moment without children climbing on me is when I lock the bathroom door to either take a shower or use the toilet, and even then I am usually inundated with requests. Today, Apollo banged on the door and asked me to sing him the ABC song again and again while I was showering. I didn't understand why he wanted me to sing it until I unlocked the bathroom door and discovered him and Sunshine covered head to toe in Spiderman Tattoos. He learned from my friend Taylor to sing the ABC song while waiting for the tattoo to adhere while he presses it on with a wet washcloth. I was actually really impressed. He had one right in between his eyes and Sunshine had one on her cheek and her arms were covered in them. I don't know how in the world he got her to sit still for all of them! But I digress... 

I either need to just accept the fact that there is only so much plate space and be happy with what I have, or I can continue to eye all of the options and feel despair. I mean, why can't I have it all? 

All I want is a body that looks like this:

Well, the cat woman suit is a little much, but still- Halle Berry can pull it off.  

And maybe a house that looks something like this:

And children who behave like this (especially at the grocery store)

I want my kids to eat yummy homemade organic chock full of produce meals:

And to be as impeccably put together as Michele Obama (I don't care what your politics are, it's hard to argue that she always manages to look elegant and hip)

But instead, I am the woman who wears her pajamas to preschool when I drop my son off. His preschool starts around lunch time. I'm the pregnant lady with the two screaming kids sporting Koolaid mustaches and drippy noses, holding the line up at the grocery store.

My house usually looks something like this:

Our dirty laundry pile is so tall that it is touching a picture hanging on the wall in our bedroom. 

And today, Apollo had chocolate pudding and bananas for lunch. Awesome parenting, I know. 

But you know what? I don't want my buffet plate full of time spent styling my hair or cleaning my house or exercising and weighing all of the food I consume. I want a  plate filled with playtime with my kids, getting my hands dirty in back yard while we chase the chickens and pig around, making out with my husband while we snuggle after  dinner instead of doing the dishes. I want a dirty, messy, beautiful life full of those moments that have nothing to do with perfection, but with love and laughter and bliss. 

Don't get me wrong- I like having a clean, pretty house and children without goobers on their faces and I'll try my best to keep up with it. I'm just so over feeling guilty about everything. Mother's guilt is such an ugly thing sometimes. I'm done wondering why I can't have a career and spotless house and small waist and children who never misbehave. It's such a waste of energy, and it casts a shadow on all that I have to be grateful for. I am so blessed. 

 I've decided to quit my job when this next baby comes along if only so I can be a better chef/housekeeper/mother for my family. It's hard to give up those pieces of myself that remind me that I am more than just this tired parent who spends so much time chasing kids around and picking up toys. But maybe there's a lesson to be had in all of this. Maybe a  little restraint in life's buffet is in order. Perhaps accepting that I can't do it all is the first step in realizing my potential. I sure hope so. 

I'm ready to be queen of my universe.