Growing up, my mom was what they would call a clean-freak. And also growing up, she did her hardest to teach us the ‘proper’ way to vacuum a house, clean a toilet, or even put things away in our room. If she reads this, she will agree that this wasn’t always the easiest, and we were not the most compliant kids. Sorry, Mom.
Now that I’m a mom, I get it. I get a lot about why she had her ways – because I tend to have the same ways. Having things orderly put away, and clean are ways I can manage my anxiety. You must be thinking that changed when you had kids. Yep. It did.
Having Simon wasn’t too bad. I look back now that we have Spencer added to our family and I couldn’t believe how good we had it with one child – time management wise. I laugh when I think about the expectations I had for my home prior to having two kids. Life became different, and priorities changed.
So, if you decide to come over to visit and I’m not prepared…you should be prepared.
I will yell for you to come in because chances are I am feeding Spencer. You will be greeted by a 2-year-old. Pants are optional and he will be sporting his paw patrol gitchies and will most likely be holding a train or two. You will come in and immediately see the dishes needed to be cleaned up on my island from the prior mealtime. Help yourself to any leftovers if you want. You will see numerous piles of laundry in the hallway ready to be washed. You will see laundry on my couch, ready to be put away. You will see numerous toy like landmines on my floor – watch out. They hurt.
I will apologize for the fact that my house is a disaster.
You will probably agree that my house is, in fact, a complete disaster, but smile and say that it’s fine, your house looks the same way.
I know there is a large possibility your house could also look the same way, which makes me feel better. But then you could also be a clean person with no small children and live in a pristine state. If that is, in fact true … welcome to the jungle.
I will most likely forget that it’s not normal for a two-year-old to be running around like a wild animal, half-naked, while I’m trying to carry on a conversation with you. In the meantime, he will continue to interrupt our conversation to tell you about what he ate for lunch, or the fact that he was wearing paw patrol gitch that day. This is important information, so pay attention.
If you are a stranger selling something, you will probably hear me politely tell you that I’m (most of the time) not interested, but while I’m doing that you have to at least listen to my partially-clothed kid sing The Wheels on the Bus while sitting on the kitchen island eating the cookies I so strategically hid (not).
So if you ever want to stop by, please do. I’m writing this so you don’t go into shock upon arrival. I’ll have a cheap bottle of wine waiting!