My House, My Rules
Ok, let’s talk about house cleaning and children!
I’ve always been messy. It never really mattered to me when I was younger, everyone was messy when they were younger! Right?
But then I got my own house.
See, the Husband and I didn’t live together, alone, until we bought our house and moved in three weeks before I gave birth to our first daughter. So we had three weeks of living together, alone. Ha!
My own style
I always wondered what our house would be like when we’re living by our own rules.
I imagined it to be like this:
Turns out, it’s more like this:
Couch-bed
What’s that you ask? Oh, that’s our couch-bed.
See, we are extremely lazy and frankly, we love living easy. I always think of the joke about people from Montenegro, who are very, very relaxed, where they compare Montenegrians to snakes because they like walking whilst lying down.
That’s us.
So instead of using the couch we can’t really lie on every which way, we got a bed instead and plonked it in front of the couch. And now we get to lie down, like, all the time!
But the house won’t clean itself!
And the couch bed just keeps collecting stuff! Like blankets, and pillows and numerous Emma Wiggle dolls, and laundry and cherios, and tissues…
It just seems that no matter how hard I try to clean, all I can really manage to do, is to maintain. As in, just do enough where we don’t drown in stuff…
What do people do with all their… stuff?
Like, there’s just stuff EVERYWHERE!
If you’re about to say that I should just put it away in cupboards, I can’t do that because the cupboards are full!
Every once in a while, we clean this area out, itemize things, throw some stuff away, put other stuff in tubs and shit, but I turn around and the shelf is buried again.
Seriously, what’s the point
So then I just think, what’s the point? Why bother, when I just know it’s gonna get all messed up again? I am incapable of putting things away neatly. And the Husband is no better. Well, he’s a little better, but let’s face it, it takes two to mess a house up.
What’s worse, we have children now, and we are teaching them bad habits from day dot. Occasionally, I’ll get the big one to put her toys away and she looks at me funny, as if to say “Why? I’m just gonna get it out again…”
That’s her putting stuff away.
I know, like, where exactly is she putting it??
On the floor! That’s where!
How did we get here?
Previously we lived with our parents and then some friends in their house, so we never really had to make our own rules.
Then we moved out and we were the rule makers. Except we don’t like rules and so suddenly I didn’t have to vacuum every weekend, it’s my house, I can do what I want! I don’t have to put away the dishes from the drying rack, I’ll just let them live there for days/weeks.
And then my first kid was born and then I just didn’t have the time, you know… there was a lot of Netflix to watch and my daughter loved sleeping on me for hours and I savored every second.
Hmm, which one would I prefer, clean the house for hours, or hold a sleeping baby… you. tell. me.
I’m not proud
So anyway… I’m not house-proud by any means. I’m mortified to show you how messy my house is. But it turns out I can’t help it and I also don’t give a shit. My house may be messy, my shelves may be hiding, I may occasionally lose my baby in the toys.
But I am happy.
My mother always said that she preferred to spend time with us then clean the house. And I tend to agree. Because the kids won’t remember a sparkling floor (because they’ll never actually see one), but they will remember the theme song of The Office and the Gilmore Girls and I hope they remember all the cuddles we had on our couch bed.
And if you’re finding yourself a little smug right now, and having bad thoughts about me, feel free to come over and clean my house, moles!
I’d love to say I’m off to keep cleaning, but we all know that’d be a lie.
Adios!
B.
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