On Sunday one of my neighbors entered my house. She had borrowed a portable crib and a high chair to accommodate a houseguest in the form of a toddler. And she was returning the equipment. I heard her come in. I was upstairs with the baby, searching the girls’ room for two matching shoes. B, downstairs, yelled, “Mom. Like, Lisa’s here.” (He watches a lot of, like, Scooby Doo.) I went down the stairs more carefully than usual, because just that morning J had ripped them open to expose the original stairs–circa 1870ish–and they’re a little uneven and splintery and worn. (More about this later.) E still was wearing only one shoe. We all were trying to get out of the house on an unusually warm fall day to walk to the library, where we haven’t been in weeks because of school schedules, work schedules and unscheduled H1N1, colds, and the like.
The house was a disaster. More than usual. I hadn’t cleaned up the kitchen from breakfast, and I had just made sandwiches for a “walking picnic.” We had spent the morning making a book for J, who–after ripping up the stairs–had left for a family party that involved far too much time in the car in proportion to celebration, so the kids and I opted out. There was construction paper, markers, stickers, yarn scraps, hole-punch holes, scissors, etc. scattered on the dining room floor and table. There were the usual toys everywhere. Also shoes (but not the one I needed), clothes, and other STUFF that I can’t even really identify. But, I invited Lisa to look at our stairs, because we had started talking about her house, and how she might move at some point in the not-so-distant future because her kids are grown (they are 17 months apart, like my oldest two), and one thing led to another. The stairs.
She gets it. My life. She does. The messy house. The kid chaos. She gets it. But still, she started at the stairs. And then looked around. And saw the full-size box spring leaned up in the living room (the reason for the stair “controlled demo” as J called it), and she turned her head and met with my unmade bed and the piles of clothes on the dirty carpet in our (fairly newly established) downstairs bedroom. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t judge, I’m quite sure. But still. My house? It’s just so out of control. We laughed about it. She talked about all the things she still has from her kids’ childhoods. Art projects. Toys. About the busy lives that she remembers when her kids were my kids’ ages. We talk about this a little sometimes, in more than just a neighborly way, and I find it validating. She’s been in a place similar to where I am now. And she’s in a different place now, one that seems not so far off from what I might imagine for myself. In the future.
My wonderful neighbor walked out through our porch that also serves as home base for J’s work, because we don’t have a garage or a shed, nor can we afford to construct one right now. She walked amid strollers and baby backpacks. Kids’ shoes (yes, more of them) and outerwear. Bike helmets and a scooter. Also wallboard, bags of cement, paint cans, lots of tools and many random parts of things. She smiled. Said thanks. And walked next door to her lovely, quiet, artsy home. A home that once housed much the same chaos as mine but does not anymore.
Our life every day is so full. Of chores. Of schedules. Of piles. Of children’s needs. We have broken things that need fixing. We have photos that need to go up on the walls. Walls that need to be painted. We have ideas of what we want to really do with these old, unsafe stairs. But we don’t have the time. Or we don’t have the money. And we have so little energy. And we have children. Children with whom we want to spend time.
And so we go to the library. We leave the house messy (filthy?), and we come back later, and we all do our best to wade through, both literally and figuratively. We find a shoe or we don’t. We get the box spring up to B’s new room via stairs or his bedroom window (let’s HOPE) and we are grateful that our neighbors lend butter when we run short instead of judgments we all have plenty of.
Is there a metaphor in here somewhere? Waiting to be uncovered?
Read More in chores, Jen Writes, three kids
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God, I can sympathize. My house is a biohazard. Just found this morning–pretzels, with just the salt licked off, gummy and wadded up, stuffed in the side of the couch. WTF?
Biohazard! Yes! And Oh my god the kids actually EAT the stuff that they find in the couch sometimes. And what’s worse than them eating it? Me NOT DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT! Am I really qualified to be their MOTHER? WTF is RIGHT Kitch, What the….FFFFFFFF
So I am jumping in. I have been steadily stalking your site ever since Jill’s (aka Scary Mommy’s) Motherhood contest, but I am officially taking the plunge this morning.
I am a lover of great ideas in the blogosphere, and what you are doing with FiveforTen is a fantastic one. Kudos! Plus, who doesn’t love free swag? Unless of course you will be sending me a tee-shirt with your two faces on them, larger than life. :)
As for my home, let’s just say that I live to fight the good fight each and every day. I’ve also come to realize that it really isn’t worth cleaning until about 5:00…otherwise known as one hour before my husband gets home.
Oh the joys the joys the joys of Jumping On IN! So happy to have you along, Francesca. Hmm, Francesca. I have a cousin with that name. No matter…YES to great ideas in the blogosphere. YES to connecting more. And NO to a t-shirt with our giant heads on it (whether pictures of us at 5 or 35, we wouldn’t do that to you! I SWEAR IT. FUCK. See? Swear it. Get it? Okay, enough already….)
Fighting the good fight. Yessssssssss! I have not been fighting any fight lately. My house looks like….oh my goodness, let’s just say it’s the first thing I brought up during my morning commute phone call with Jen. It’s hideous. It’s embarrassing. And? To top it all off? I will have all 6 kids this weekend while Jen takes her J away for a special, secret weekend. Yup! Her kids and my kids and I have no idea where everyone is even going to SLEEP YET? Goodness.
Stay tuned. I’m sure there will be an entertaining blog post coming on the weekend events. Can you say Clothing Optional? Popsicles even though it’s 40 degrees out? Movies? More movies? MORE movies?
:)
I understand the six kid thing. Movies are good for children. Just keep saying that over and over. LOL! Will think of you this weekend.
Thanks! At least I get to give three of them BACK in the end. Heeheehee.
It’s all about the chaos and clutter, actual and metaphorical. There are always broken things that need fixing – in the home and in ourselves. Cheers to full lives, literal and figurative wading through, and suspending the judgment that comes so easily.
Yes on chaos and clutter. A part of life no matter how much it can destroy us…because it also does a world of good.
And yes to suspending the judgment. It does come easily. Too easily. I am happy to feel much more peaceful than ever in my life…and thus? Much more able to suspend my own judgment.
Ah! Peace Be Still.
Oh I so understand! I am not totally out of that place – although the shoes that fit my kids take up much more space when left on the floor than your kids’ shoes do.
My house is never picture perfect. I currently have a kitchen table that, due to the fact it is flat is considered a shelf by my children.
I have a huge concrete slab addition to this house I rent that is the laundry room. In the laundry room is “stuff” from my 22 year old daughter’s college apartment. The “stuff” and I are hoping it moves to its own home soon but the job hunt is not showing that this will happen.
I have a single mom’s bedroom – I have read the books, the one that say your bedroom should be your sanctuary – that contains one of two closets in the house. It also is the location where all the shelved stuff on the kitchen table goes for huge family meals. In other words, no sanctuary here (but it is welcoming or I think it is).
The stairs are bare as we are bearing parts of our selves here online in community. It is perfect that there is a control to the tearing up but is that necessary. Probably yes, probably no. I am sure this is longer than you were thinking.
I am making a sign out of my gym tee shirt that says “judgement free zone” and putting it over my mess.
OH my oh my oh my. A t-shirt that says “Judgment Free Zone.” Oh I just love that!
And the metaphor? I would like Jen to respond to that, if she can find the time. She has a busier day than I do today!
But everything else? The messes. The 19 year old, 22 year old, and single mom messes? It’s very satisfying indeed to know that we all have them. We are all working toward acceptance of what we have and what we don’t and who we are as represented by our homes.
Makes me think even more how much I would love to see that video my mom is referring to. :)
Our house is tidy, I’m sure some would think, anally so! But there are always things waited to be fixed/painted/put away in their rightful place or re-organised. I have friends who are a lot messier and I have friends who are a lot tidier. I sometimes wish I could ignore the mess more but it’s who I am – at forty I no longer deny who I am! But I think the time we spend together as a family is much more important than getting the hallway painted… tomorrow is another day!
Gah! It’s so funny that you should mention the hallway! Even though there are 12 closets worth of laundry exploded throughout my house, it is the hallway that I have finally decided to concentrate my efforts on. We dragged all the boys to the Home Depot on Sunday to get supplies. Let me just say, three boys in Home Depot at dinner time is an awful idea. But we do it anyway…because no matter what time of day it will not go smoothly. Three boys is like a traveling zoo.
I am so with you on this one. My house used to be immaculate, in the pre-children era. Even when my oldest was born, I still was able to keep it up without a problem. But now, with a 5 year old and a 3 year old tearing it up, its pretty much chaos on a daily basis. It takes days to get it back to immaculate condition and only minutes to destroy it. If ever you wondered if your children had superpowers, you need look no further than how quickly they can destroy something, without even trying.
Children. Superpowers. Ha. Ha ha ha. Yes! They do. Powers of destruction. Oh I love this comment. Because they DO do it without even trying. DAMMIT! I just feel defeated. I need to buy me some superpowers of my own to combat their superpowers. Got a store in mind?
My house is tidy–mostly. Because that’s just who I am. But it is also filthy mostly. And it is old–so old. Over 120 years old. And the updates that have been made in those 120 years are bad–so bad. And I despair of how grungy and unfinished it is all the time. Until sometimes I notice that having terrible walls that will need to be completely torn down and replastered means that I can devote an entire hallway to a display of my kid’s artwork, for example. With pushpins. Because the wall is coming down someday. I have to believe that, or I will go nuts.
What a fantastically fabulous way to look at it, Lynne. What better way to cover up the walls than to put up the artwork? No better way…none. Old homes. Jen can testify to that. Mine is old and in need of repair but mostly? Mostly just messy these days. I’m not even getting down to the dirt, because that is just repulsive. But the mess is cleanable and yet NOT. Three kids, man. It zaps everything around you!
Hi Lynne,
I just have to say that my house is old, too. And filthy. And I know exactly what you mean about the wall of art with pushpins. And believing that it will some day come day. Because, yes, going nuts is a definite possibility otherwise!
Lynne,
Just left you a comment over at your site. But I want any and all of the commenters reading and reviewing this thread to go read your post More on Maine. It’s wonderful. In so many, many ways.
Thanks for being a part of all of this. You. And everyone here!
Sarah
Sarah,
You are so kind! Thanks for stopping by my site.
I say that I’m not hokey too, but when you read my stuff you see I’m just a sap. All this love and family and community stuff, it’s what keeps me going.
lmw
We are messy, not filthy, and cluttered. I choose the metaphor to be this: We don’t need perfection, we need only to be a safe, warm, and loving place for those we care about. I actively try to be that safe place for my family and friends, and I hope my home reflects that … even when the laundry piles up and you can walk for tripping over the megablocks.
I’m sitting here smiling over this comment, Kelly.
“I actively try to be that safe place for my family and friends, and I hope my home reflects that”
What beauty and truth in those words.
Followed by this:
“even when the laundry piles up and you can walk for tripping over the megablocks.”
The reality. Yes. My life. Our lifes. So rich. So full. So chaotic. So blatantly messy!
I can’t believe it. I lost my comment again. Recreating once again – sure not to be as pithy. : (
Here’s the story: One summer Sunday, Sarah spent the day cruising around our large suburban house videotaping the disaster left over from the previous day’s family reunion. And trying to get just one member of her family to consent to an interview. Without success. We were all talked out from the day before and had retreated, staking out our own corner in the chaos. (Sarah always has been the one to try to get a conversation going.) I didn’t pay too much attention to the resultant tape at the time, but, upon viewing it several years later, was aghast by the mess in each and every room, and by the fact that I was firmly ensconced on the couch, book in hand, ignoring it all. My favorite position, if I remember correctly. Oh, the guilt and shame. Such a bad – girl, woman, mommy, housekeeper……fill in the blank.
Jen and I share the dubious honor of being the eldest child, and a girl. A generally good girl. Who carries a bucket of have-tos and shoulds and musts and must nots around with her, who has a long list of dos and dont’s pinned to her psyche. OK, I’m getting carried away here, but you get the picture. We’re both trying to be braver, but if I could just shed all the judgmental crap it would be a whole lot easier. I judge others, I judge myself. And I hate that about myself. My least worthy quality. Oh boy, lots more to mine in that thought. Later, maybe.
Oh Mom! How I love thee! And I don’t even remember that day. That videotape. It would be so fantastic to see it now. Really. Thanksgiving? Can we pull it out? I have to see myself as a young thing. And the house. And you on the couch with a book. Because it was your home. That couch. Any book. And your uncanny ability to tune us all out. Tune out the TV and the noise and the arguments and the needs of the house.
Oh Mom! I’m so happy to have you here in our conversation. And I know you will feel funny about me sharing this, Mom, but don’t:
I want everyone to know here that My MOTHER feels a gracious acceptance from you all, for allowing her to join us. Or something. Although, no one – especially my own mother – needs approval for joining us here. But you get the picture. Jen and I are overwhelmed by this community. And so is momalomsmom. It’s unique, ladies. And so are you all.
And so is my house. And the laundry spilling out the front door! Seriously.
Hey Mom: PSST: Thanks for saying that bit about me wanting to get conversations started. It WAS always a part of who I am, right? To talk and now, to listen. And even if I don’t sit still and I still jump in and cut you all off, I DO listen!
Ok, you said better late than never, so here I am. I don’t know what rock I was under, but I just read about your five for ten thing, and I think it’s a great idea. So yeah, I’m in. And reading your blog is never a waste of five minutes, so I think I’ve come out ahead already.
By the way, my house? Never clean. Picked up, because that’s my anal self at work, but never clean. So don’t look carefully. That’s all I’m saying. Looking forward to visiting again tomorrow!
Amy! Glad to have you here. Don’t worry, I won’t look carefully if you don’t!
Yes, yes yes … I so relate to this. I pine for the pre-childhood days of uncluttered shelves, of empty flat surfaces and what felt like an emptier life in general. And the space, the white, the cleanness … ahhhh. But you know what? When I really think about it, I wouldn’t trade. Yes, there is a metaphor for sure. With children – small children at home – EVERYTHING is full. Overflowing. Somewhat chaotic. And the challenge, I think, is seeing the beauty in that and honoring it rather than being frustrated by it. At least that is my challenge. I keep telling myself: before I know it I’ll miss tripping over a firetruck and an American Girl doll in the 10 feet between my bedroom and the bathroom. I’ll miss the daily tsunami of art. I’ll miss peeking into the family room to see a new Lego sculpture taking over the entire coffee table. I know I will.
Yeah. (sigh) I know I’ll miss it too. And I don’t want to say that I missed it all. That I didn’t stop to enjoy it. So the laundry waits. And the clean surfaces, floors and toilets wait. And I love up on my kids in between finding my own sanity through this here blog. Shh! Do NOT tell my husband that the house is a mess because of the blog. Who am I kidding, he already knows? And he has even started crafting his own ideas to write about…goodness…can we say FAMILY AFFAIR! I love it!
So here’s my COMMENT, Sis:
My house looks like 12 closets exploded. And filled each room with their glory. Both clean and dirty. And I am NOT joking. I am NOT being dramatic. Clothes in the washer. In the dryer. On the floor of the laundry room. Two loads in a basket in the kitchen: unfolded. One load on the living room floor: folded, NOT in a basket. Three GIANT GARBAGE BAGS full of little boy clothes that I got from a friend yesterday…those are at the foot of my bed. Scattered clothes in my bedroom a la teenage girl. Clothes piled on top of the ironing board that we haven’t used in two weeks.
OH DEAR I HAVE SOME WORK TO DO BEFORE YOU DROP THE KIDS BY ON FRIDAY.
But is your table cleared off?
Not hardly, no!
I’m glad you wrote this, even though, um, you already told me this, this morning, before THE DEAD ZONE.
T-minus three days and counting…
Oh, and remember, if the weekend is clothing optional (for the kids, at least), you’ll cut down on the laundry, for us both!
I am pretty sure that EVERYONE’s house looks like this, especially with multiple small children. Those people whose house looks ok, are lying! They have a HUGE closet somewhere where they hide their stuff!
I do have to add you forgot something. Your life is also full of love! I can always judge how much fun we have had by how messy the house is by bedtime. Yesterday was SUPER fun…I can only imagine how much fun Thanksgiving will be =)
Speaking of love, and messy houses, and good times…you know what I’M looking forward to? Christmas! When Jen comes down with her family and all the kids mix together and we toss the older ones in the basement and they TEAR THE PLACE APART. Oh it’s gonna be grand. I’m already so totally looking forward to it! If mess = fun and love then my life is surely full! Of Both!
I love this line: “We are grateful that our neighbors lend butter when we run short instead of judgments we all have plenty of.” Amen.
I have a friend, a mother of two small children, who cleans her kitchen with q-tips and scrubs her floors after they’re asleep at night. Her house looks immaculate. This same friend complains that she doesn’t have time to read and hasn’t gone out alone with her husband in over a year.
Sometimes neat appearances mask internal messiness; and external chaos belies internal peace.
Oh my….perfectly said. I like to think that my abandoning all else and falling into a book was an act of pure sanity. My zen moment in the middle of madness.
I love that line too. I think it is my favorite.
And I love the last line you wrote, because really? So completely true. And something to remind ourselves of when we are looking around and shaking our heads at our own disasters.
Brutally honest? My house is a total MESS right now! Worse than usual. And usual ain’t always so grand. But I have this blog project. This group of amazing women getting together. And I have to tend to it…like something that is growing (because it is) and the cleaning can wait.
Well, I suppose I should at least make some ROOM for Jen’s kids to sleep SOMEWHERE when they arrive on Friday for the WHOLE WEEKEND! Yippee!
When I was single there was no excuse to be messy and when I was a new wife I didn’t want to be messy. Now that I have children I can let my inner mess run free. Free at last!
Hey you! This is perfect. And you say it much more succinctly than I ever can. Free at last! Let the inner mess run free! No excuses. No apologies. Yes yes.
Tim (the neater of the two of us) is always asking me, “where does this go?”. Sadly, it seems these days, nothing has a “place” and it drives me absofrickin crazy. There’s just STUFF that gets moved from one counter to another, to the stairs, to the playroom, to the office, to my bedroom, to a bin… it doesn’t end. I can’t seem to throw anything away for fear that I’ll miss it and wish I had saved it. There are things that USED to have a place but then it became a bad place because something that I needed to move from Luke’s reach needed to take over that PLACE.
And the house disarray, makes my head in disarray and I keep promising myself to throw things out, make good places for things so that I can be in a good place but then, something “more important” (like reading your blog or writing mine) wins out.
So here I sit, looking at complete and utter chaos in my family room (having pushed aside 3 baby dolls, 2 trucks, some random bouncy balls and a plastic spoon (?)) to find some space to sit on the couch. And I’m really NOT ok with it… I know it’s understandable that with 2 little kids it’s hard to find the time to clean up and put things away but I’m not happy like this. So, I’m telling myself, again, that I fix this… even if it does mean shoving everything into closets, into the attic or under the rug.
Becca. YES. I know. I’m not OK with it either. I mean, it makes me crabby to see chaos everywhere and know that I am the only person who will notice it enough to really do something about it. But, then, the blog is taking up a lot of the sweeping and wiping-down-counters time, and when push comes to shove, I’m not unhappy with my choices. But. I’m still crabby. And we definitely don’t have enough closets or rugs around here to go that route!
I’ve done more thinking about this since I last commented. I have always believed Dirt Is Good when it comes to my kids playing and their clothes coming home from school covered in “life”. I like to see the remains of the day splattered all over my kids clothes but when it comes to my living space, I feel like it adds to my impatience and exhaustion to be surrounded by so much stuff. Or maybe I feel like I’m supposed to be that traditional housewife that has the house neat and tidy when Husband comes home from work, and it’s just not like that in today’s world. Maybe I’m too hard on myself. In reading so many of the other comments I’m starting to think maybe how my house looks is OKAY and normal. At least none of your readers would roll their eyes at me!
Yes. Dirt is Good. And isn’t it comforting to find so many mothers who say, YES. My house is a mess, too! Yay! (I mean, not yay, but at least we’re not alone, as in many mothering instances.)
Oh, I love this! I have had people come over when I did not expect them, and I am horrified that they see how everyday is in our home. I sometimes think: Surely, I am the only one with THIS many dust bunnies (fully grown RABBITS) on TOP OF MY DRESSER along with piles of photo envelopes that need to be sorted and put in albums (What scrapbook??!!). I sometimes think I am soooo irresponsible (and dirty) for leaving a pile of smelly dishes in the sink (we’re talking a MOUNTAIN) so that I can go to (fill in the blank). The destination does not matter. Hubby and I almost always choose living life over cleaning up after it. Usually I feel okay with that; sometimes I don’t. THanks for the reminder: it ain’t just me. And kudos to the neighbor, by the way. So many would have wrinkled their noses…
I love that you choose to live life instead of cleaning up after it. I love that. I love it. Yup. I do.
I will admit to messy, and yes… even filthy. Messy to the entire house; filthy, only certain parts. This is the much improved state of disarray, I might add.
A metaphor for my state of mind? (No doubt. But that’s another subject entirely.)
I’d like to say that I was neat before marriage and children, but it’s not true. I love tidy environments (though if they’re too clean they make me nervous). However, even when I was single, my life was about other priorities – writing, reading, art, PEOPLE, traveling – there were never enough hours in the day for me, even then. Cleaning was always low on the priority list, but much easier to do before marriage, children, and a house.
That said, my work has always been organized; I can keep multiple complex activities straight in my head (visual memory) – and still do. (Not uncommon for women, and a necessity for parents – even more so, single parents.)
With children came a whole new era of chaos, clutter, and yes – BOY DIRT and DOG HAIR!! I tried to beat back the waves (my ex expected a tidy house, and it used to be not so bad). But, some years ago (long into single parenthood), I pretty much gave up. My priorities are about substance and survival and laughter and learning. Do I like a clean house? Yep. Do I have one? Nope. Will I someday? Maybe – but unlikely.
I’m with Nicki on the “bedroom as sanctuary” concept. I love it as concept and strive for it. Occasionally I reach “acceptable mess” and then I feel better, more capable, more able to breathe. But when I write, I can make everything else drop away – that’s helpful.
When I want to have people over, it’s difficult. It’s rare. (I invited a visiting French couple for an afternoon, last year, art collectors. I cleaned for TWO WEEKS before their visit, and I suspect they found my place messy. They liked the art though!)
Now and then, I clean enough to have a few people here – and it feels wonderful to actually be able to navigate from room to room. One of the reasons I enjoy having teenagers here is that they don’t judge by the mess. They simply enjoy the freedom of the environment here.
Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could do the same? Not judge?
(Shit – all this reminds me that I need to find the surface of the kitchen table before Thanksgiving. Damn. All those bills, junk mail… am I the only one with a BURIED kitchen table?)
Oh… small house, one story. However, anyone who wants to come and help me clean up, I estimate it would take one dumpster rental, a duo of brawny 30-something (heterosexual) men, and some great women for conversation – while we all enjoy watching the men lift and tote an assortment of inexplicable piles of stuff. Oh… I’ll show you ALL my nice footwear, and I’ll bake and serve killer coffee if you ladies will help me fold the ROOM full of laundry (no kidding), sort 5 years of papers and files, and eventually dust. Any takers?
Oh, BLW. I am horrible with the kitchen table. My mother, when learning that I am having guests over, always asks right off, “Is the table cleared off?” How she knows from 3,300 miles is beyond me!!
I am more than happy to come watch men move stuff around. I may even be able to find a few men to do the moving ;)
Laughing! (You make me feel so much better, Nicki, thank you.) Yes, yes, please! Come over – even if we don’t clean a thing. I’ll bake! (We can eat cookies on the floor.)
Oh Wolfie. As usual, you just get to the heart of the issue. I love you priorities, and I cannot think of any better. And eating cookies on the floor is an activity of regular pursuit at my house. Though I’m 100 percent positive that the art is better at yours. (Well, unless feather-decorated fall gourds are the new rage. And then I’ve got you beat.)
I have this poem tucked away in my old copy of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” I apologize that I do not know the author, but I think it applies well to this post:
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery… blissfully rocking.
Cooking and cleaning can wait ’til tomorrow,
but babies grow up, which I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So, settle down cobwebs,
Dust go to sleep
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep
Laura, they don’t keep and they’ll hardly ever wait! :)
Lovely. And true.
I love this.
I have a poem by my desk that I’ve shared with a few other bloggers before. It’Advice to Myself by Louise Erdrich
and it’s wonderful. About ignoring the house duties and nurturing the writing muse. Google it. It’s worth the effort.
You see how I turn on my computer in the middle of the day for you? (Okay, okay, I turned it on for something else, but since it’s on anyway…)
Hmm. Do the stairs feel like a metaphor, in your house? Like you had to embrace the mess–make things messier!–to do the necessary work (get the mattress upstairs)? Like we have to embrace the non-adult-ness of the kids, and the ways that our daily lives don’t conform to adult norms and standards, in order to do the work that is being a family? I could see that metaphor.
But I could see them just being stairs, too. If the metaphor feels too heavy for a Tuesday. Sometimes I feel like that. :)
Yes, maybe the stairs are the metaphor. Creating a bigger mess rather than tending to the rest. Or maybe I was just looking for too much on a Tuesday. I always like your insight. Thanks for the early comment today!
Can I just say amen sister! My apartment looks like a train wreck, and I only have two! So many times I leave the house looking horribly messy, and don’t regret it for one minute. There is always the night time right? (I wish!)
I cannot identify the metaphor for you, because I am too busy finding lost shoes : ).
Something I treasure is friends who will not judge you for the mess in your house, or in your life. I have a few of those and I am so grateful.
Do we all have lost shoes? My 14-month-old has a shoe obsession. Already. And due to multiple hand-me-downs from multiple lovely friends and acquaintances she has more viable pairs than I have. And she carries them around. And hides them places. And even though I don’t REALLY care if she wears two different shoes, it’s just easier when we leave the house, because people always point out to me that she’s wearing different ones, but they never say a word when they match. Which isn’t to say that I don’t like attention. (Well, actually, I don’t.) But I don’t like those judgments. I admit it.
You’re so funny. And so is E.
And this reminds me how Ethan always has only one shoe. At home he walks around with one shoe, and when we are out he inevitably takes one OFF. So people are often coming up to me kindly trying to tell me that there seems to be a missing shoe – as they look for it by my cart, or my stroller, or on the floor – and I am so bad because I just grumble “Yeah, yeah” and go back to “managing the kids” while trying to get the shopping done withOUT forgetting something.
Shoes. Blech.
I have to second Ambrosia’s Amen, sister! I am so here, though my 3 are a bit older than yours. Messy, chaotic, hate having people drop by, that’s me. And don’t get me started on lost shoes! But to find a metaphor in it? Hmm, I don’t know. I can’t come up with any brilliant words of wisdom. Maybe it just shows we’re too busy living to clean?
Yes. We’re too busy living to clean. Short. Sweet. Simple. True. Metaphor or not, I like it.
Oh, I can commiserate. We moved from one fixer (that we fixed up and sold) to another fixer. Our water pressure is awful, our windows don’t open, and our amazing 1/3 acre lot (HUGE in Southern California) is just weeds.
The house is really only clean three times per year–after the kids’ birthday parties because all the grandparents come over and I have to break down and clean.
But you know what? The kids won’t remember that they lived in a hovel. And if they do, they’ll remember the quirky things about the house and my/your creative solutions.
When I was a kid, my dad’s house didn’t really have heat (a crappy wall heater), so when I stayed with him, he’d wake me up, carry me in a blanket and put me in front of the hot stove to eat my breakfast. And that’s pretty much all I remember about that junky house.
What’s the saying? The chores will wait, but the kids won’t? Your house probably drives you nuts (mine does), but the kids probably think your makeshift bedroom is cool.
Smiling. You’re so right. Creative solutions. And you reminded me that B did say, about a year ago, at age 4, totally unprompted: “I like our house, Mommy.”
There are plenty of quirks around her to keep them going, and I thank you for pointing out the power of quirks. Feeling better!
We are in “moving limbo” zone. Everything has been taken off the walls and packed into boxes that are just around every corner. There is always a basket of laundry waiting to be folded in the dining room and a load on the basement floor in front of the washer. Most days I leave the house with breakfast dishes still on the counter in a rush to make sure we’re all on time.
We can pick up the messes when they are older and want nothing to do with us. Until then, we’ll spend time with them, pray the dog eats the scraps off the floor so we don’t get rats and ignore the rest.
Now. Someone just explain that theory to That Guy I Married and we’ll be all set.
My guy defined this very same thing for me: The time will come that our children want to distance themselves from us. And we will have time then. To read. To clean. To work more. To revisit our pre-parent selves. But now is fleeting and precious and if we have to eat off of paper plates because somebody forgot to run the dishwasher? Who cares.
Houses get messy. Life is messy. Mine is filthy. I’d rather be happy than perfect.
Yup. Happy. Though sometimes the mess gets through the happy and makes me crabby, I must admit.
You know whose house I love? The Weasley’s house in the Harry Potter series.
The Weasley house is chaos, clutter, memories, beloved things and nooks and crannies for treasure and trinkets. And yeah, wadded up saltless pretzels, too.
That’s home to me.
I feel anxiety when my parents visit because I know my mother judges me, but every other day, as long as I can make a path from room to room and the sink is clear, the toilet clean, I really don’t care.
And I am so glad I’m not the only one.
We should have a photo share: everyone go take a pic of your worst spot of the house, as of right now! and come share.
Ooh. A photo share. I LIKE it. I think I already have a few photos stockpiled, from when we were moving within our house a few months ago. Probably not fair, you know, couch on end in kitchen. But telling. Yes, indeed.
I live in a 900 square foot house with 4 people (two adults, two children). The chaos, mess, and clutter is overwhelming, to say the least. At times, I feel the walls are closing in on me. I find myself escaping my house in a subconscious effort to avoid having to deal with it. Recently a friend stopped by to visit and I apologized profusely for the mess. She turned to me and said “Oh, please…if your house was spotless and sparkling, I would yell at you and tell you to spend more time with your kids” – that is just what I needed to hear. My house may not be clean, organized, or even sanitary most days, but my kids are growing up too fast as it is. I don’t want to miss any more than I already do when working and tending to the necessities.
You have a wise friend. And I think what I am learning from this entire thread is that the people who I am drawn to have the same priorities. And a clean house is not at the top of the list. Thank goodness for that.
It has been interesting to read this post and the responses. I haven’t been able to let go of my aversion to a messy house, even though I know I need to. Trying to figure out a metaphor for that psychosis!!?? My MIL says that Americans are too worried about how our houses ‘appear’. She says that in the Caribbean (where she is from) your hospitality IS your home. It doesn’t matter how fancy, how tidy. What matters is your welcoming of your guests. I NEED that wisdom. *sigh*
I like this. Especially because I do enjoy being welcoming, you know? Making popcorn for a bunch of kids in the neighborhood. Seeing them all play together. Having a friend over for tea. There’s just so much to the upkeep that I feel like I never move forward. I’m always just trying to catch up. (Right now I am sitting among laundry. Both dirty and clean. OOh boy.)
Yahoo, it works. Wrinkles and all. But it’s good – kind of like liking to know what someone’s house or office looks like, so when you’re talking to them on the telephone, you can picture them there.
So, go for it girls. Let’s see your beautiful faces. It’ll make the conversation just that much better. : )
You are the cutest, Mom. Wrinkles and all.
xo
xo
xo
Nice photo, momalomsmom!!
Even when I have non-judgmental people viewing my OH SO MESSY life, I still feel a little disjointed, like I’m doing something wrong. It’s like I’m climbing the stairs and I’m comfortable with HOW I’m climbing the stairs, but then someone else starts walking up with me and I just lose my balance. THEN, I feel like I’m supposed to turn and walk back down. Like UP could not possibly be the right direction in this mess!
I have to often fall back on that saying, “a messy home is a sign of happy children” (or something like that)
Ooh. A new metaphor. Not going in the right direction. I like it. (I mean, I don’t like it. But it sounds very familiar to me.) I too fall back on the happiness of my children. They are happy, safe (um, most of the time) and healthy. Can’t really get too greedy.
i lose count of how many times i “pick up” the house in one day. i think, probably, once i get to four, i throw in the towel and let the house return to it’s natural hovel state.
today, i yelled at no one in particular (just one of those ease the frustration loud ventings) for someone to *please* clean up This Damn Hellhole. i’m sure daycare will be hearing that one tomorrow. or preschool, later this week.
the stairs. i’m not so good at metaphors. all i can say is perhaps the stairs are important because what was covering them has been ripped away. much like, if we were to remove the veneer that most of us wear (ie. cleaning the house when company IS expected or going to work looking completely fresh and put together after a morning of sheer hell), we would see what was underneath. plain stairs. plain talk about what life with small children is really like; because it’s definitely not about clean houses and easy mornings.
You’re not so good at metaphors? Really. Cuz, baby, I think you nailed it. (Speaking of nails, um, some of the old ones are beginning to push up from the newly exposed stairs. Just to further the metaphor, perhaps.)
I hear you about a natural hovel. Perfect word. As we speak, I am surround. (And ignoring it all. Again.)
I just stumbled on this wonderful wonderful blog from a comment at Mind Body Mama (http://www.mindbodymama.com). What a treasure trove! And Jen, I think we were in a graduate class together many years ago! Your face is very familiar. I’ll look forward to getting to know you and your sister through your stories.
And here is my most recent story “clean house/messy house” post:
http://www.hatchedbytwochicks.com/?p=194
The metaphor I’ve concocted is: Live and let love.
It doesn’t matter– whether the shoes are strewn and the stairs are unfinished.
What truly resounds within me is the fact that you walk your kids to the library. That’s just plain good living. And loving.
Your kids (probably) won’t recall the chaos (or at least in it’s entirety) but guaranteed they’ll recall the quality of their upbringing. Kudos!
My house drives me crazy. My husband calls me “Piles” because I try to make some amount of order by piling things up. It drives me crazy to have a mess, but with a busy 3.5 year old, me working full time, hubby owning his own business that takes 60 hours at least a week, housework takes a MAJOR backseat. I try to straighten once a week, but I honestly can’t tell you the last time I truly cleaned… so scary!!!