Box Creatures, Hibachi Fires, and the Beautiful Mess in Between
From box creature name-calling to midnight kisses, life’s real magic hides in the chaos. A love letter to the messy, beautiful in-between moments of motherhood.
This morning, my three-year-old looked his big sister dead in the eyes and called her a “box creature.”
No context. No explanation.
Just pure threenager energy before I even finished my first cup of coffee. Honestly? I aspire to that level of chaotic confidence.
Meanwhile, my low blood pressure is putting on its own little circus act — falling asleep while sitting straight up, moving in slow motion (unless I’m falling), and riding mood swings big enough to make me side-eye my own sanity. Good times.
Life Isn’t Pinterest Perfect
My kids are 21, 8, and 3 — three totally different seasons of life under one (very lived-in) roof.
The days are long — filled with snack demands, courtroom-style sibling arguments, and mountains of laundry that have officially claimed squatter’s rights.
And honestly? I’m a crap housekeeper. I hate cleaning with a passion usually reserved for bad drivers and telemarketers.
I’m also a mega procrastinator. “I’ll get to it later” might as well be stitched onto a throw pillow around here.
But somehow, in the middle of the chaos, the magic sneaks in.
First Hibachi Magic
This week, we took the littles to their first hibachi restaurant.
Watching their faces light up (and slightly panic) when the chef lit a fire right in front of them was pure gold.
Screams. Laughter. Tiny hands clapping.
Memories locked in forever.
Kids are wild little shapeshifters.
One minute they’re curled in your lap smelling like syrup and sunshine.
The next, they’re battling over a blue crayon like it’s the last life raft on the Titanic.
They’re chaotic. They’re hilarious. They’re heartbreakingly fragile.
And every ridiculous moment — every box creature insult and every sleepy hug — is another stitch in who they’re becoming.
Mother’s Day at the Table
Mother’s Day this year wasn’t about flowers or gifts.
It was about the pure, simple gift of having all three of my babies — even my oldest, who’s off doing real superhero things — sitting around the same dinner table.
Talking, laughing, roasting each other like only siblings can.
That moment? That’s the good stuff.
Midnight Kisses Are the Payoff
Co-sleeping with a three-year-old should honestly be an Olympic sport.
I wake up with feet in my ribs and elbows in my face most nights.
But last night?
At 2 a.m., I woke up to a tiny, sleepy kiss on my cheek.
No demands. No tantrums.
Just pure, simple love.
That’s the stuff nobody warns you about.
That’s what makes it all worth it.
In closing:
Life isn’t neat.
It isn’t tidy.
It’s messy and loud and smells vaguely like peanut butter and that weird “outside kid” smell after a big day.
But it’s ours.
And tucked between the box creature wars, the hibachi fires, and the midnight kisses — there’s a kind of magic you can’t bottle or buy.
If today feels heavy, messy, or like you’re living inside a laundry basket — just know you’re not alone.
You’re doing better than you think.
And if you’ve been called a box creature today?
Honestly? You’re thriving.
Here’s to the messy magic we’re all stitching together, one box creature at a time.
Xo~ Jonesy