“Oh, I can’t have you over,” other moms always say. “My house is a mess.” I arrive for a play date and as soon as I come in the door, I’m told, “Don’t judge me, the house is a wreck. No, seriously, it’s destroyed. Please don’t look. I’m so embarrassed.”
Lies. Lies, lies, lies.
Because when I go into that house, the house of the mom who is so apologetic about the condition of her kitchen, or the toys in her living room, or the invisible dirt in her bathroom, I can’t decide if I want to laugh in her face or deck her.
Girl. Please. Not only is your house not messy, your house is immaculate. You have guest towels laid out. Your children’s spilled toys remain confined to a rug – which, by the way, is not sprinkled with crumbs. Sippy cups stay in the kitchen. Playdough dare not enter here, and the dog doesn’t shed. Insisting your house is dirty speaks to clinical delusion, your misunderstanding of small children, your secret desire to make me feel guilty, or maybe your desperate need for reassurance. Probably all of the above. Seriously, stop it.
So for all of you mamas insisting your immaculate house is messy, and all of you normal mamas therefore afraid to have anyone come into your house ever, because that level of clean is just not achievable due to kids/time/dogs/life/constant art projects, let’s set some guidelines. You can either have a sense of shame or small children, and I’ve got three boys under five. So I’ll spill it.
Normal: There is a room in your house that always stays cluttered and messy, and much like Lady MacBeth’s hands, will never be clean. In my house, it’s the dining room, furnished with my great-grandmother’s cherry dining suite, including buffet and china cabinet. I sew on the table, store art supplies in and around and between the hunt board and the wine rack – remember when the Harbison AC Moore went out of business? Yeah, it relocated to my dining room – stash file cabinets in available floor space, dry glitter art next to the sewing machine, and sometimes set up train tracks under the table. None of that gorgeous cherry is currently visible. I neaten this room for birthdays and holidays requiring fine china. Otherwise, you aren’t allowed to see it, Judgy McJudgerson.
Normal: Your laundry is everywhere. Current house tally: five clean baskets in the laundry room (blocking the auxiliary fridge and probably creating a certifiable fire hazard). One clean basket in the master bedroom. A clean load in the dryer and one in the washer. There is no basket of dirty clothes anywhere. Therefore we’re this week’s laundry heroes! Will those clean baskets make it to folding, or even more daunting, into drawers? Maybe. I’m feeling it lately. But a relative of mine, who shall not be named, once had to hide her kids’ Christmas present – a pet snake – from all the kids and her husband for two weeks. She stashed it under the laundry baskets in her bedroom. The secret kept. She’s the all-time laundry hero, ladies.
Normal: Your sink is full of dishes, your dishwasher is full of dishes, your table and counter are full of dishes, and you can’t find a clean spoon. So you use a teaspoon for your cereal. When you get to the giant soup spoon or worse, start to contemplate that spikey grapefruit spoon at the bottom of the silverware drawer, then you need to do a load. But only enough that the kids have plates for lunch.
Normal: Your kids’ bath toys are right where they left them after the bathwater drained. Don’t pull that shower curtain shut. We know what’s behind it.
Normal: Some type or types of toys are scattered all over the house and no matter how hard you try, or what bribes you offer, or what god you pray to, you never get every piece picked up. True story: I have found those stupid ball-pit balls in my washer, my front yard, and stuffed between carseats. We have the same problem with duplos, which I confiscated on really tenuous grounds, and Star Wars figures. If I come over to your house and notice plastic army men in the space behind your toilet, I’m not judging.
Normal: Cups and cups and cups. Everywhere. All the time. Somehow we didn’t perish of dehydration in the 80’s when my mother wouldn’t let us out of the kitchen with a Tupperware sippy of Kool-Aid. But it’s 2014, and my kids will shrivel into complaining oblivion without a cup of juice at all times. Except they leave them everywhere, and then get a new one. They now hold up drinks and ask, “Is this good, Mama?” before taking a swig. So do yours. Don’t lie.
Normal: Art Damage. My bath tub has some hopefully/maybe/eventually will fade tie-dye stains. I need to repaint part of the kitchen wall, because who let her toddlers use her acrylics? This mama! At the very least, your toddler took a pen to the wall and you haven’t had time to magic erase it yet.
Normal: You can’t see the floor of your car. Where else are you supposed to toss all those Chick-fil-A cups? Or the spare diapers? Or the dirty sippy cups? Seriously. Your husband probably complains about it.
Normal: You forgot trash day again. So your supercan’s overflowing and your recycling bin looks like a seriously committed alcoholic lives at your address, but really you just forgot garbage day two weeks in a row. It’s cool. As long as you got the trash out of the house, you’re a garbage day winner! High-five!
Normal: You have not dusted. Perhaps ever, or at least since your parents last visited. I think I maybe own Pledge? Somewhere? Don’t look at the upper bookshelves, especially if you suffer from allergies.
Normal: Some part of your house is in do-not-use disrepair, and has been for longer than you would publicly admit. My oldest son has never seen us use the shower in our master bath. He’s four. We need to replace the tile and just haven’t managed somehow. I thought this was a horrible, abnormal, horrific shame until, in flagrant disregard for social mores, I mentioned this to other mothers. Two of them copped to unusable bathrooms. One mentioned a deck with holes. Another has to warn visitors not to attempt the front stairs. I salute you, my sisters in disorder.
So there you have it. Either your house is really, really clean, and you should stop apologizing, or at the very least you can stop your shame and host playdates for once. We’re all in the same boat. I won’t look in your dining room if you don’t look in mine.
This was a fun and appreciated blog post. I want to respond to the comments — both sides. I am a person who loves to do household chores. I often have the feeling of excess physical energy, and intensely cleaning house soothes me. Of course it’s hard to do anything intensely while caring for kids, but I persevere. If I’m in the house with my kids, I’d much rather be cleaning than playing with them. I get really bored and frustrated spending too much time focused on little kids. The thing is, I know this isn’t a good tradeoff. I also know that it’s much harder (for me) to drum up enthusiasm for interacting sweetly with my children than for cooking or housecleaning. I’m taking the easy way out. I also know that I resemble my grandmother in this — and not my mother, who kept house adequately but all her life was a charmed companion to children. I see all the sides of this, and I know it’s possible to balance everything perfectly, but as with anything in life, perfect balance is elusive. It may make more sense for each of us to know that we lean in one direction or another, and strive to keep our balance by putting our efforts in the direction that comes less easily, but also to value in ourselves what our natural talents are. When I think about which half of the equation is more important, it’s clear (and I’m so glad I was raised by my nurturing mother rather than my strict grandmother — much as I in retrospect admire her industry, especially her epic food preservation). The biggest thing that these comments bring up, though, is how lonely I in particular experience parenting small children to be, and how judgement about others’ choices keeps us from coming together. I know I’ve chosen not to visit friends (despite their urging, my love for them, and my loneliness) who live far enough away to require an overnight stay, because of worries of how they’d judge my children’s behavior, in particular whether my children would mess up their houses (because I know that, as well as my children requiring intense supervision and some delay/space/freedom in order to clean up at home, children’s behavior when away is unpredictable). I also want to mention that for me personally, keeping a clean house is something that I do best when I’m depressed. Interacting with my children is something I do best when I’m healthy and happy. Your mileage may vary. But I’d hesitate to nag at someone who’s happily and lovingly parenting children. Similarly, when lonely and depressed I eat less and some might say “look my best.” Such things as eating, loving, playing, pursuing frivolous interests are what body and soul do to keep themselves whole. When we push against those things too hard, in service of regimen, we are preventing ourselves from staying whole. That’s why I liked this article and worried that some of the comments advocating tidiness as normal might be hurtful to people. Who are struggling.
This has just described my house! What gets me is that if I apologized for the mess, I’d be okay. Working full time, 2 boys under 5, a move when we bought our house a few months ago, cooking, cleaning, caring for the kids, and working on my masters degree at night and intermittent sickness from autoimmune disease, I just don’t have the energy to care. All our clothes are clean, and stacked in baskets in the bathroom, bedrooms, and dining room. It’s my husband who apologizes and it goes like this: “Sorry for the mess, Kim…(insert some reason why I haven’t gotten to clean).” It infuriates me. If you don’t like it, clean it!
Loved this, and thank you for your honesty! Keepin’ it real!
Ladies, for those who think the house will change after the children grow up and move out, not gonna happen because you get these tiny little blessings called grandchildren! If you are really lucky they will live close by, or at least some of them, and the wonderful messes continue. The only difference is you enjoy the messes because it means they have been at your home in your arms reading, baking, playing games and having fun!
I’ll take the spills, stains etc… for them. who needs a clean house? Not me!!
Some genius decided to design my apartment with the laundry area located in the front hall….I have 5 children. When someone comes to the door I try to open it as little as possible for fear of the laundry running past me to attack the unexpected visitor.
Thank you. Seriously. Thank your. We have been homeschooling for 8 years and I seriously thought i was the only one. (I’m not kidding) I cannot explain how happy I have been over the years though to go into a couple fellow homeschool friends house and it was more “lived in” than mine. Did I think less of them? No, I wanted to hug them!!
Oh and the deck in disrepair? That would be mine…hoping to get it fixed this next spring. Meanwhile I’m here enjoying my teens that are growing up way too fast! (oh and btw…I’m not far away from Columbia SC…just don’t come visit without calling first 😉 😉
This is the most absurd thing I have ever read. It is not that difficult to maintain a clean home. Stop with the excuses people. Dirty dishes everywhere and trash all over your car is absolutely disgusting. Get it together.
Agree 100%.
Seriously? People are taking this as an attack on moms who have neat and tidy houses? ? That was not at all the point of this article……
So I’ve read several responses here and here is my bit; while I strive for a certain level of neat and tidy I do not always achieve it and it embarrasses me. I grew up in a hoarders house and was told to do chores from a young age but was never shown how to do them and when I tried (without instruction mind you) I was criticized for what a poor job I had done. I am a grown woman, but that voice of unfair critique sticks with me and on the days someone comes over and my house is relatively picked up and clean I don’t apologize for the hand full of dishes that didn’t fit in the dishwasher or the small spattering of toys on the floor because my child just dumped them back out to play after i vacuumed…..and I think that’s all the author of this piece was asking for. I don’t strive to embrace my messy/dirty home, but I do try to maintain reasonably clean standards. When I can achieve reasonably clean I’ve learned to quell my anxiety when someone steps through my door. Yes. I am so messed up in my head that a new person through my door has the ability to throw me into a full-blown panic attack. So if you are a judge mcjudgerson please know, some of us are doing the best we can and have immense hurt when we can tell you’re judging us. I thank God for the friends who love me enough to either over look my messy days or offer to help me out of my pit because I know they love *me* and care about *me* and not their own standards of cleanliness. Why do I go through the trouble of letting people in then if it’s so traumatic for me? Because I believe that facing my fear will help cure me of it and I will not have my kids live as I did. I was never allowed to have friends over and eventually even family events ceased to be held at my childhood home. I will not do that to my kids, even if it means my MIL doing my dishes on Christmas morning and having to reach down into the cabinet over-filled with supplies from my desperate attempt at a clear counter before everyone came or letting my son choose who enters his room no matter what state it’s in. My kids are 6 and 3 and I do strive to teach them how to care for a home, but I’m still learning myself and trying to do it through my own mental illness. Perspective and compassion…..get some.
To you, you may see clean , however, to those of us that have a certain level of cleanliness that was expected while growing up, to their mind, the house is not up to those standards. If you chose to have a house that is cluttered, a trip hazard, fire hazard, and contributes to wasting time when you are not organized and able to make most of your time, then more power to you. I was a single mom, working full time, going to school part time and still able to keep my house picked up and orderly. Like others have said before, make it a fun activity with a treat reward and you get to spend time with your family and still have a house that you don’t have to shovel a path so you have a place to sit. Basically, before judging others who have standards and feel sorry when their house is not up to them, and worry more about your own family and creating a warm, clutter free, safe environment for them and installing them with basic organization skills.