Hi, I’m Brittany. I am a former neat freak.
(crowd answers) Hello Brittany.
I didn’t always know that I was a neat freak. I grew up thinking that everyone’s households were run like mine. You made a mess. You cleaned the mess. Simple, right? You vacuum, you dust, you don’t go to bed with dirty dishes in sink and you make your bed every morning. Or so I thought. Going to college and living in the dorms taught me one thing.
People are disguising.
Which, okay…I know that sounds harsh but, it’s kinda true. I lived for the day when I could control the cleanliness of my living space and 2 dorms, 3 apartments and 1 convent later (don’t ask…I’ll write about that in another post) and I had finally gotten my own apartment. It was bliss. I could wake up in the morning and know that everything was just as how I left it. I loved this single and clean life and shortly after I married my husband who, if I let him, would be a trash can away from being on Hoarders. I could be exaggerating but the man, bless him, is a bit of a messy, unorganized pack rat. Moving into a home with him was the hardest part of our marriage but I’m happy to say that 3 years later, he’s still alive. And I’ve learned to adapt.
Oh, don’t think it was easy. I enjoyed my neat freak life. I remember the days fondly and I look forward to the day when I can reclaim my glorious and perfectly pristine living quarters. But guess what? This mama is just too busy (or lazy…or both!) to clean her house alllll the time. I just am.
I mean, yes I could spend an hour cleaning the house right after getting home from work but then that also means I miss the quality time that I could be spending with my babe. That means I won’t have time to chase her around the house, cuddle with her while we read or have her help me do food prep for the next morning. Getting into my cleaning frenzies on the weekends means I’ll miss family pool time or trips to the Farmer’s Market.
I could clean during her nap time but then that means my own blog would get neglected.
I suppose I could clean when she goes to bed and when my husband gets home but then I’ll miss getting the chance to chat with him. He works longer hours than I do, sleeps for a few hours and gets up to go at it again.
I could scrub the tub but I’d much rather go over family finances with him and hang out in the living room watching The Food Network.
Yes, I can pick up here and there but my clean for 3 hours at a time days are over. For now. My house is messy but my heart is full. If you visit me at home, you may have to step over a toy. Or two. Or 10. There may be crumbs on the floor and you may pull a (hopefully clean) cloth diaper that was stuck in the sofa. I don’t think you’ll remember these things, though. You’ll remember the laughs that we had. The memories that we made and how even though my house wasn’t in perfection condition, that the overall vibe was full love.
And if you don’t remember that…oh well. What can I say? My house is messy! #SorryNotSorry