That's what my grandmother used to say when one of the many daughters-in-law who came and went to her house complained about the mess made by her grandchildren. It was a simple sentence, but full of life: the mess was not a burden, but a sign of presence.
We parents today often disagree with this. We believe that the room should be in order. Unlike our parents, who associated order with "what if someone comes to our house" or "what will they say about you and us for raising you," we today often seem to have our worries elsewhere.
We want order because we are tired, because clutter weighs us down, because we are looking for space for ourselves in a crowded day. We are tempted by “flags of freedom” that get in our way just when we need to tidy up, we seek equality in our relationship as if it were measured by who does the dishes at dinner… and we often fail to notice that clutter, or the lack of it in our home, can be a much deeper message than just disorder.
The mess of children is a language. It speaks of energy, of curiosity, of the body that moves, of the mind that seeks to experience, to share, to create. It is a way of reading the childhood they are going through.
There are times when there is no clutter at all. The house is quiet, orderly, almost silent, because the children are tucked away in corners with their phones in their hands. And this lack of clutter hides another kind of emptiness that should really worry us.
There are other times when clutter “screams” at the lack of outdoor play, time with friends, sports, the freedom to be a child outside the walls of the house. There are times when it shows the lack of our time with them, or the authority we try to impose without regard to their real needs.
This does not mean that children should not learn order. On the contrary. Order is necessary. But it should not be an end in itself, in the face of what is happening deeper. Clutter is not always a problem to be eliminated; sometimes it is a signal to be heard.
Our home is the mirror of the life we lead. And if we want our children to grow up well, we must start there. To “read” our home: the scattered toys, the drawings on the tables, the noise, the movement. To understand what our children are telling us through them.
And perhaps, amidst all the fatigue, let's not forget this: clutter is often joy. It's a sign that the house is alive. That there are laughter, small steps, hands that seek the world. One day it will be missed.
And then we will better understand how precious it was.
So tonight I have a wish for you who reads my note. When, between cleaning up after the holidays and preparing for kindergarten or school that starts on Monday, you notice that there is still a "mess" in the living room, I hope you close your eyes and think about how much your child enjoyed it!
