Confessions Of A Messy Mom

Messy Moms, put that broom down. Stop telling yourself you are going to be more organized. We both know that is a lie that leaves you defeated, eating pie over the kitchen sink. So what if company is coming over in 20 minutes? Don’t apologize for your house being messy—we are moms who can’t be bothered with household chores.

My family was over at our friend’s house for dinner. Our friend says, “Sorry, our house is a mess. We just got back from out of town.”

My reply, “Wow, if you think this is messy, you should see my house.”

Our friend’s definition of messy is a small pile of unopened mail on the counter and a pair of shoes by the front door.

My husband and I are both messy—borderline dirty. Okay, it’s a freaking dirty, messy, disaster. Having a child has only made it worse. Just last week, I “deep-cleaned” the whole place and thought, “I will never let it get that crazy again. From now on, I will pick up at the end of every damn day, and clean as I go.”

One week later, here we are again.

I’m stepping over toys to microwave my coffee for the third time this morning. I’m writing to avoid the inevitable—bringing our home back to a livable condition. When I do get our home back to meeting our lowly standards, I will thoroughly enjoy the five minutes of having almost everything in its place.

I’m a stay-at-mom, which should make it easier, right? Well, no. We are at home, actually using our home, making lots of messes. My toddler enjoys opening every drawer and cabinet in the house to throw the contents on the floor. For some reason, he doesn’t care to put anything back, just like his mom.

I don’t put things away or clean as I go. It seems ingrained in some people to naturally keep their space tidy. The gift of cleanliness was not bestowed upon me.

There isn’t a bright side. I can’t say, “You know, our house is a mess but we are really living it up.”

Our house is a mess. My kitchen counters are so cluttered that a Crock-Pot meal is the best hope for dinner. I get less done in a messy house. I’m not some creative who thrives off living in an unorganized space.

Messy Moms have tried it all, but we still somehow manage to wreck the place.

Our son doesn’t seem to care. Our house is one big obstacle course. He is currently standing by his highchair eating the remnants of last night’s dinner. I bet you’re waiting for me for to present a solution or say, “Enough is enough.”

No. This is the reality of all Messy Moms. I am not yet a reformed slob. Today, I will turn on Justin Bieber, pump myself up, set a timer, and start cleaning. At best, I will unload the dishwasher and switch out the laundry. Somehow, I still find time to shower, practice yoga, and cook dinner every night.

Parenting is kicking my ass. Cleaning is not a priority. My house is so messy, I couldn’t even fake a perfect Instagram shot—unless there is a filter called, “someone else’s house.”

Having a maid is sounding pretty good. I am totally OK with being that yuppie stay-at-mom with a maid and live-in nanny. The nanny must be old and only mildly attractive.

A good friend of mine offered to come clean my house in exchange for cooking some freezer meals for her family. She says she likes cleaning but hates cooking. She said, the messier the better. Bless.

I’ve tried the “be thankful you have a house to clean approach.” It usually starts with me getting out the vacuum, followed by watching highlights from last night’s episode of The Voice, and ends with me putting away the vacuum. My son is terrified of cleaning appliances—I guess because he rarely sees them in use.

Recently, my husband said, “The bathroom smells great babe! Did you clean?”

I said, “No, I just put a few drops of tea tree oil in the toilet.” People, it works.

A sweet friend messaged me on Facebook. She was trying to sell me Norwex cleaning products. I said, “Listen, I’m sure these products work great, but I am not the customer for you. You are saying I will save money on cleaning supplies, but I don’t see how that is possible since I am currently spending zero dollars on cleaning-related items.”

I know I’m a slob because when I do clean my house, I let everyone know. I write a blog, post on Facebook, and call my mom. I’m like, “Guess what I did today? Folded the laundry and put it away.”

Is there hope for me? Can I ever maintain an organized living environment? I dream of a day when we sit down for dinner and I don’t have to hand-wash two forks because I forgot to start the dishwasher. Or perhaps I will be able to remember the last time I changed the sheets.

Then, I wake up to the reality of my child playing in the recycling, again.