Putting It to the Test

Ever since MJ's birth, I've been a little lacking on the domestic front. It's not that I don't care; I appreciate a clean, tidy, and organized home as much as the next person - in fact, probably more so since it doesn't come easily or naturally to me.

Keeping the house tidy has always been a challenge for me. But lately I seem to be losing the battle and the war. I just keep finding more important things to do than scrub the shower or fold the laundry.

Like tickle dates.

And walks.

And snuggles.

And playing in the dirt.

And singing silly songs.

And unfolding all the laundry that I just folded, just so we can toss it in the air and giggle as it falls down like Baby Gap confetti.

Some might say that MJ has been a bad influence on me. But, to be fair, it's not like my home was a shining example of cleanliness and order before he was born. No one would ever have accused of me of being organized and piles of mail and unfolded clothes have become an integral part of my home decor. The inside of my refrigerator always had a science project or two and there is a constant stack of bills that are waiting to be filed...someday.

Once MJ came along, it only got worse. My to do list seemed to be getting longer and my time to accomplish it was getting shorter. The house just wasn't my priority. So, when I saw this sign the other day, I thought "My sentiments exactly."



Home it came and up on the wall it went.

But despite embracing motherhood and the messes it brings, I admit I was still conflicted. The laundry piles bothered me. The crumbs on the floor irked me. And the fine layer of dust along every surface of our home made my skin crawl. I'd go back and forth between cleaning binges and housekeeping strikes, hating both equally. My home looked skitzophrenic - one moment it was sparkling and the next it was a disaster.

The bottom line was I paying my new motto lip service, but I hadn't fully committed. And I was paying the price.

Then, one afternoon, MJ helped me put it to the test. As I turned around the corner to the kitchen, I saw this:



MJ's first mess. Broken, dried spaghetti spilled out all over the kitchen floor - under the fridge, the dishwasher, and stuck into crevices of cabinets and the pantry.



Awesome.

Frankly, it's my fault. This pantry seemed like such a good idea before I had kids. Now, with a curious one year old, it's a disaster waiting to happen.



I was faced with a choice: fret about the mess on the floor or embrace it. Would I be true to my credo? Thankfully that sign is posted in the kitchen, so I only had to glance up to get a reminder.

And so, instead of getting angry or rushing to clean it up and stressing out, I decided that we should play in the mess first. After all, it looked like a lot of fun.

Turns out, it was.



Tossing spaghetti around really is a blast.



Crushing it all over the floor is pretty entertaining, too. You should try it sometime if you're ever bored.



Did you know you can even wave spaghetti around like a magic wand? It's fantastic. Don't believe me? Here's a video of MJ:



See? How much fun is that?

We must have spent a good twenty minutes with the spaghetti before it was time to clean up. And when that time came, MJ helped. So what if he just dropped a few spaghetti noodles into the trash can while I swept up the rest. It's the thought that counts - right?

When it was all said and done, I realized that at this point in my life, time is just too scarce to spend worrying about clean ovens and sparkling floors. The moments I have with my husband and son are few and precious. And the sparse amount of time I have to myself is also too important to spend scrubbing cabinet doors or dusting blinds.

Don't get me wrong; it's not that I'm lazy or don't want to care for my home. I do. And I spend a good amount of time and effort doing it. I just don't want to do it at midnight anymore when I know I'll be up in five and half hours. I don't want to sacrifice having a glass of wine with Ted after MJ's in bed to do it - nor do I want to shove him (MJ, not Ted) in a playpen for hours on end while I attempt to accomplish something during the day.

I want to enjoy these moments and memories while I can. Because someday in the not too distant future they'll be gone and there is no getting them back. Father Time doesn't take returns and Mother Nature doesn't provide do-overs.

This is it. This is my only shot at this phase of life. And if I have to choose between spotless windows and a happy kid (and husband), I choose the human beings. Hands down. Every time.

But before you decide that you'll never again darken my door for fear of the filth and grime that may await you, take heart. You see, I've never been much of a "Select, A, B, or C" kinda girl. I'm more of the "D: All of the Above" type of gal. I guess you could say I like to get my way. Or that I like to have my cake and eat it, too. (Because really, what's the point of having cake if you can't eat it?)

So, I hired a housecleaner. Her name is Angelina and she is scrubbing the microwave as I type. When she's done the floors will have been washed, the sink scrubbed, the windows wiped, the beds made, the shelves dusted, the stove cleaned, the dishes done, and the toilets scoured. And, to make this victory even sweeter, MJ is sleeping, which means for exactly 90 minutes, I will have both a clean house and a happy kid.

So if you'll excuse me, I have a slice of cake to go enjoy...

Yum.