Stop Apologizing for a Messy House

I have friends that stop by and the first thing I say when I greet them at the door is, "sorry for the messy house".

I found myself saying this again this morning as I looked around the living room.  The next thing that came to my mind was the phrase, "you're going to miss this someday". We all know that I have a long ways to go before I see those days of empty rooms and an organized house.  Benefits of having a baby at 45....ha ha ha.

But it's true.  I wouldn't trade these days for anything and yet I am always saying sorry about the toys, the bathroom that is messy, the dishes in the sink, the dust that says "dust me woman", and the cat food that never quite makes it into the bowl sitting in our bay window.

STOP I say.

What is the alternative?  I don't like thinking about that.  There was a time that I thought I would be living in a spotless house, not by choice, but because my body decided to wait a few extra years before I had babies to hold and snuggle.  I had wished that my house would be filled with little feet, messy hand prints and dirty floors.  Well, I didn't really say dirty floors but it's a given with little feet running around.

Now, when I talk about my house being messy or dirty, I am not talking about the hoarding-rat-infested-cat-poop-in-the-corner dirty.  I am talking about the "living " proof that our family's live in our homes.  The shoes by the door, the toys all over, the books pulled out of the bookshelf by Finnley, the dishes in the sink--you know-the proof that a family of six lives in this home.

Stuff.  I swear it multiplies at night.

I only have so many damn hours in a day and they are stretched.  The last thing I have time to do is dust.  I hate dusting.  I hate cleaning the bathrooms.  In fact, if the truth must be told,  I hate cleaning but I love a clean house and so I do it.  I clean and organize when I can.  Sometimes it is late at night and other times it is early in the morning.

I am picking up stuff all day long.  I pick up the same friggin' toy a hundred times and put it in the toy box only to run up stairs and step on it one more time.

I might have company for Thanksgiving.  This sends a pang of terror to the depths of my stomach.  A combination of being an introvert, perfectionist and a laid back homemaker.

 CRAP--MY HOUSE IS NOT READY FOR THIS! I run through all of the "sorry this and sorry for that"  thoughts about my house being lived in and not picture perfect.  I start nit picking.  Seeing all of the things I can't seem to find time to clean or organize.  STOP!

Seriously, it's two months away and I am already starting to fret about the little nooks and crannies where the dust bunnies are turning into mammoth sized balls of hair developing their own sense of style.  The sneaky spider webs that are looking down from my 20 foot ceiling.  The stickers that are stuck to my hardwood floors.  You know the ones.  They are from new shirts or new glasses for the kitchen and they get turned upside down  and stuck to the floor. You think to yourself as you're running out the door, "I'll get that when I get back" and , well, you don't.  Then you mop over them a few time thinking that will remove them;  and it doesn't.  Now they are almost part of the floor but you really should get down on all fours with a scraper and remove what is left of the once recognizable Hello Kitty price tag.  Sounds fun, huh?  Welcome to my life on most days.

STOP STOP STOP--Is what I need to be telling myself.

 My number one job is raising my family. Having four kids, two parents that work from home,  cooking from scratch, homeschooling and 3 animals makes for a very lived in home.

Yes, it gets messy and unorganized but I will no longer apologize for living in a home that does not look perfect every second of the day.  I don't want to be the parent that thinks having a "pretty room" is more important than having a laid back home filled with comfort and ease.

I have issues with "pretty, perfect rooms".  I will save that rant for another day.

Written by Sherron Watson