At my parents house the craziness persisted, the children ran through the house like wild beasts dragging the half dozen balloons behind them

Today we celebrated my father’s birthday. It was myself, my husband, our kids, Elliott age 3 and Cassie age 18 months, and my parents sitting down for dinner in a chain restaurant. It was chaos. My normally well behaved children were anything but. They were full of energy and and vinegar. The baby put more of her food in her hair and on the floor than in her mouth. The 3 year old could not stop bouncing around. They were happy and excited to be celebrating Grampy’s “happy birthday” as my son calls it.

Dinner left me tired and frustrated. I apologized to my parents for the circus as I picked spaghetti up off the floor. My mother replied “I would take a million dinners like this to have these grand kids in my life”. I smiled, thinking she was being polite.

We left the restaurant to go to my parents house to have cake and ice cream. On the 10 minute drive my son asked me no less than 3000 questions, all starting with “mommy…”. I was ready to tear my hair out.

At my parents house the craziness persisted, the children ran through the house like wild beasts dragging the half dozen balloons we’d brought for Grampy behind them. I’d hit my limit. I asked my husband to take them to the park to burn some energy. With just 3 of us in the house it was eerily quiet.

Suddenly the chaos returned, they’d played but had no less energy — my very own wild animals had returned. Still running, still loud, still bordering on the edge of being uncontrollable. But this time I caught a glimpse of something different.

I saw two children who treat and regard their grandparents house as their own. I saw my parents smiling and laughing as their normally quiet house was filled with excited giggles, shouts and running feet. I saw a relationship building and blossoming between grandparents and grandchildren. I saw my children happy and comfortable. Something I don’t remember feeling in any of my grandparents homes.

My annoyance, my embarrassment and my exhaustion melted away. I couldn’t stop trying to control the chaos, but I was able to step back and enjoy it a little bit more. I too would take a million chaotic dinners in order for my children to have the relationship they do with my parents.

As the evening wrapped up we were all tired, but in the end I believe my father, and my children, had an awesome celebration filled with love, laughter, and just the right amount of chaos.