Embrace the Mess!

Marissa Lena O'Connor
Oct 17, 2016
3 min read

My kitchen is covered in Quinoa. My dog is licking mashed sweet potato out from between her toes and my kid has some goat cheese up his nose. The area around my table is a disaster. I don’t mean “gee this place needs a good clean,” I mean, regardless of how hard I clean, you will still be finding quinoa in strange places at next Thanksgiving. I am learning to "embrace the mess."

Let me be clear, I am not a spotless home kind of person. I like things clean, but I accept a certain amount of chaos in my life. When I was pregnant my husband and I joked about how our kid would be the kid who was always mysteriously covered in mud. We thought it would be adorable. The first time I let him feed himself and he mashed raspberry all over his tray I was cool about it. I thought, “Aw, my child is so creative, he's finger painting with the berries.” Then his ability to wreak havoc increased. Soon there was food on the floor, plastered on the cabinets, matted into the dog's fur, and I swear I even found some on the ceiling. No idea how that got there.

Our battles for the spoon became epic. I would aim it for his mouth and his little arms would windmill wildly, either succeeding in wrenching it from my hand or causing it to soar across the kitchen. He seemed pleased with either result. As I had to find new ways to clean various mashed food out of both our hair, I was less pleased. Truthfully, I was shocked at how stressed it was making me. All I could see was the mess I would have to clean up later. I was saying "no" a lot. I hate saying "no." It's not fun. Meal times were tense, which was the complete opposite of everything I’m going for. I love mealtimes with my child, I want him to love them too.

One night I gave in. Actually, first I bought a dust buster, then I gave in. It was amazing. He had a lot more fun, but so did I! When he got to feed himself there was so much joy and pride on his face. I had been missing that when I focused on the mess. Part of him learning to love food means getting to explore it. That first night when I just let him go for it was so much fun. It was hard to let go of the stress, but if I could focus on the joy he was having it was fun.

Our job as parents is to help our child discover their world. Part of that is introducing them to rules and mores of our culture (i.e. don’t hit the dog with the spoon and don’t throw food across the kitchen), but part of that is also giving them the freedom to explore and figure things out for themselves. If I want to raise an independent competent adult (I really do!) I need to give him the space to exert that independence as well as guiding him. I don’t let him eat every meal on his own and I am committed to feeding him oatmeal on a spoon despite the screaming. As he gets more independent it gets harder and harder (stay tuned for our adventures with beef stew). At least one meal a day though is all his. He gets to go for it. I sit with him, eat my lunch, and laugh. It’s just like high tea in the Russian tea room, with a little bit more quinoa in both of our hair.

If you're daring enough to embrace the mess, courtesy of C here is our current favorite quinoa combo (you can also use a spoon, but that's much less fun):