I’ll admit I made a huge mistake when the girls were born by allowing myself to see them as equal partners in our family dynamic. Postpartum Depression plays with your logic, this much I learned the hard way. I assumed our kids would immediately recognize they won the lottery of parents, and we would be a cohesive little team of shiny-happy-people. Dreamy family life? CHECK. BAM.

I’m laughing out loud just writing it.

So you can imagine my shock and awe in the years that followed. Creatures born without the ability to lift their own heads do not come programmed with team building features. Duh. It’s called SCIENCE. Even now, after years of being schooled by these trail-mix spewing mini-mammals, I find myself slipping into my old assumptions. Last night as I picked up my 1000th random, dirty sock, found in the most unlikely of places, I said to Greg, “Kids are the world’s WORST roommates”. Oh, how we laughed.

10 Facts Proving Kids are NOT Roommates:

(1) If the girls’ bathroom rug becomes crumpled, they will walk on it half-rolled up and wet indefinitely. I’m fairly certain if I don’t straighten out that rug, they’d leave it like that until college. In fact, I’ll bet they’d take it to college, and put it down on the floor, crumpled and dirty. If anyone asks, they will reply, “That’s how we do it in our house.”

(2) If there is an event in their life which necessitates a change of clothes while out of the house, on the way home from said event, they will dump out any extra items from their bags all over the car. School Picture day followed by Cross Country Practice? All formal clothes can be found buried under the seats a week later. If rain is in the forecast or a change in temperature, all layers will be discarded into the hatch with no intent of retrieval. And in case of a sock emergency, kids carry pairs of mismatched socks in hidden backpack compartments for YEARS at a time. Cleanliness of emergency sock-stashes is optional.

(3) There are 2 kinds of kids: those who refuse to wear a coat at any time, including blizzard weather, and those who must carry 2 coats with them at all times, including mid-August when the average temperature is 100 degrees. I have one of each because God knows better than to let me idle. Reasoning with this non-human trait is a waste of time. They are HOT! They are COLD! They are kids, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that kids are ALWAYS UNCOMFORTABLE. In all fairness, if I were perpetually covered in bike accident bruises and mosquito bites, AND my teeth were falling out, I might be uncomfortable too.

(4) If you tell your child your only requirement is she go to school in clean clothes with hair and teeth brushed, that child will wait until you’re having a horrible morning with a sibling (and therefore completely distracted), and will saunter out of your minivan wearing filthy sweatpants pulled out of the laundry with a rat’s nest for hair. And you just KNOW she didn’t brush her teeth. She’ll look back at you and smile. Stinky Child: 1, Momma: 0. Why does the scoring work like this?! SHE’S THE ONE WHO SMELLS LIKE GARBAGE?!

(5) I can sum up kid-roommates with 5 words: Wet towels on the floor.

(6) If you buy the entire family BPA-Free water bottles of their own choosing, kids will drink ONLY out of the parents’ water bottles. They won’t refill them. They won’t have an explanation as to why they don’t use their own, no matter how many times you locate their water bottle whereabouts, wash them, and refill them.

(7) Kids take all the money. ALL.THE.MONEY. Where there used to be money, there are now receipts. I have purses overflowing with grocery receipts, and no matter how many times I clean out and log them into the budget spreadsheet, there are millions more crowding up my purse. If adult roommates took my money and left me with nothing but receipts for clothes I can’t wear and food I don’t eat, I’d kick them out. And when they left, I probably wouldn’t feel the need to hide my water bottle under lock and key.

(8) I lived with Amie for the better part of a decade and I never looked under her bed. Not once. Well…once. Her nephew heard we were taking him to the State Fair, freaked out, and hid under her bed. See? THE ONLY TIME I HAD TO GET UNDER AMIE’S BED WAS TO RETRIEVE A 4 YEAR OLD! If you have kids for roommates, “Under Bed Checking” is a real thing. “Things kids put underneath beds”; I can’t even. Fine. You asked. HUMAN HAIR. Maybe theirs? Hopefully not mine? Why do kids cut their own hair and then hide it? It’s a mystery ranking right above Stonehenge.

Me & Amie, 1995. We-were-AB-FAB.

(9) Speaking of of living with adult roommates, Amie never puked on me, pooped on me, screamed in my face when I handed her cough syrup, or informed my significant other of my bathroom habits. Children will gladly tell anyone within earshot about that time you didn’t make it to the bathroom while stuck in a traffic jam. Can you imagine my 30 year old Roomie showing up at my office and loudly announcing, “Lori poops in her minivan!!!”? A kid will totally do that. A kid would give up their allowance to be allowed to do that. That ain’t right, you’all.

(10) Amie never walked in from a long day at work and yelled “SNACK!!!” at the top of her lungs while carrying a snack I bought for her, followed by the words, “I HATE THIS SNACK YOU PACKED!!! YOU NEVER PACK ME THE GOOD SNACKS!” Because who does that?! In reality, upon returning home from a long day, Amie often asked, “Popcorn and box wine for dinner?” Why yes! That sounds lovely Amie. Shall I pour while you pop? Remember that time we screwed up the spout on the wine and had to drink the entire box in one night? It was leaking and we didn’t own a pitcher! Oh Amie. Good times, good times.

Yesterday was a tough parenting day. Perhaps you guessed. Their dentist whispered the words “Orthodontic Consultation”, and I don’t know what they HEARD, but it must have been, “You obviously got these kids on sale at the Stork Store. They are defective and will require years of painful interventions at the Teeth Torture Doctor.” I was caught off guard considering their dentist and her entire team are like beautiful angels of sweetness. Kids wear sunglasses to break the glare of the lights while watching movies of their choosing at the dentist. It’s more like a dental spa. I make appointments so I can relax and watch Rehab Addict. I’ve considered taking up a gummy bear habit, just so I can hang out there.

After hours of melodrama-madness, they finally calmed down and apologized for their less than stellar manners at the dental office. After answering their billionth tooth-related question, we curled up with some books, and talked in depth about the allusions to larger themes in “Brown Girl Dreaming”. We talked through the complex beginning of Sara’s newest assignment of “Tuck Everlasting”. Kelly happily spent her homework time drawing the differences in wavelengths from the sun hitting the earth’s atmosphere which create a blood moon, raising my hopes that a work ethic is buried somewhere within her.

The tough day ended well. I was able to reflect and consider my faulty assumptions about sharing a home and life with children, this time over a glass of wine poured from a bottle, my box days behind me. When you sign on your first mortgage, the adultier adults take your box of wine, hand you a bottle and 2 kids, and wish you well. You walk outside and discover your Infiniti sports car (which you really couldn’t afford) has been replaced with a beat up minivan. You open your purse to grab your keys and find you have no money, but you do have a receipt for a new corkscrew and an unreal amount of healthy granola bars. But I digress.

While reflecting, I realized kids aren’t born knowing how to dress for the weather, clean a house, keep the inside of car empty enough that we can sit on the seats, BEHAVE IN PUBLIC, brush their hair, or politely request their preferences. They have an odd understanding of ownership in which no one can touch their stuff, but they feel they have full license to take other family member’s stuff. This misunderstanding alone can take decades to iron out. I know adults who can’t properly put away laundry, and yet I expect my kids to do it well? I suppose if I were perpetually uncomfortable with no ability to drive myself home, I’d over-pack. I’d throw stuff about a car in case I needed it later. I think I’d still brush my hair and wear clean clothes, but I guess I should cherish the days before the “caring about what everyone thinks” sets in.

It’s hard being a kid. It’s hard being a parent. Between the 4 of us and 4 cats, it seems a lot of things are getting broken lately. I want to be patient about the 2nd broken sugar bowl, the chips in the walls, and the smells…so, so many smells. But some days are just hard. It’s hard not to imagine living in a spotless apartment with Amie was easier. It wasn’t. Amie and I both agree we’ve forgotten paychecks smaller than the bills, the fear of being single forever looming over us, my hatred of doing dishes, and our mismatched morning schedules. Between the giggles, cheap wine, popcorn, and all-night MTV Real World Marathons, we are blissfully happy in our memories.

I got up today and tried to actively, gratefully…chose our current reality. I choose this family…us. All 8 of us, mess and stink included. Kelly awoke still certain I’d forget to pick her up from school, despite never being forgotten. Sara had to be pulled out of bed by her feet. The usual. Rufus spends his mornings on ledges higher than his IQ, so we start each day with Daddy yelling at a suicidal kitten. I had to turn the minivan around for forgotten things.

As the 3 of them darted off to their days, they took one, last, LONG look at me. Deep into my eyes they always look. “I love you.” They never forget to say it, and oh, how they do. Their every happiness relies on me being right here when their days end. For 3 humans and 4 cats, LIFE simply does not happen without me.

A couple of them may be the world’s worst roommates, but they are intriguing life-mates. I do believe I’m better off with them here. I’m messier, less patient sometimes, and not at all who or where I was when we started. But I’m better. Wisdom Comes Suddenly.