Sorry It's Such A Mess. Or Not.

One day, when Abbey was about a year old, I went to visit someone with an immaculate house. (Luckily, Abbey was not with me!) I'm talking views over the water, everything sparkling clean, white carpets, polished floors without a single scratch, surfaces dust-free... the lot. I was in awe.

How I'd love my house to look like this, I thought. I left there feeling that my own house was somewhat inferior; my cute little place in the hills seemed so... messy.

Then I realised. If I lived alone, my house would look like that (minus the water views!). I would make sure everything was in its place. If something was moved, I would put it back where it belonged. If I used a dish, I would wash it straight away and put it away. I could just imagine it, and I liked the look of my fantasy.

You see, I'm a reformed house perfectionist. I used to be better at keeping our house clean and tidy, everything in its spot, floors shiny, washing and dishes all done.

The best thing was, it would stay that way all day long. We weren't home to mess it up.

I now spend much more time at home, and I thought that would make me extra great at cleaning and housework. Logically, it should; after all, I have to look at the mess all day. Unfortunately, it's had the opposite effect.

My very wise mother had these words for me in the early days after Abbey was born, as I was worrying about the state of the house: "When Abbey grows up, is she going to look back on her childhood and remember how spotless the house was? Or is she going to remember the time you spent with her?"

And she's right. So my efforts at housework became more about keeping the place clean and hygienic, doing whatever I had time for, but if things are out of place or Abbey's toys are scattered around, or the bathroom isn't cleaned constantly - who cares? (As a side note - this is especially true while we're renovating!) I make time for my family, myself and the housework... in that order.

However, this doesn't stop me from apologising to visitors for the state of the house. Don't we all? But honestly, do they care? And if they do - if they're here to inspect whether my floors have recently been mopped - then do I really want them here anyway?

I know that when I go to someone's house, I couldn't care less if there's a bit of mess. As long as there's room to sit on the couch and a clean champagne glass, I'm happy.

But my house? Surely that should look perfect? After all, I really, really liked the look of that perfect house I visited.

What I didn't like was the feel of it. This whole scenario meant no Steve. No Abbey. No friends walking in with dirt on their shoes and helping themselves to drinks and food. No nieces and nephews running around, dropping bits of food or playing with toys. No losing myself in my writing instead of cleaning.

No.

Give me my slightly messy house any day. With my family. And without apologies.

(This post was inspired by this post by Kelly at Be a Fun Mum.)

Megan