I am a type-A perfectionist. I dot every “i” and cross every “t”. I check, double check, triple check, and then take another glance. I know where everything is in my house and I can tell if it has been moved half a centimeter. Ok, that last sentence is a slight exaggeration. Slight. I over analyze everything from that last e-mail I read to the real meaning behind the reason that guy cut me off in traffic. It’s bad.
I am learning to deal with life as less than perfect though.
Ask anyone who knew me before I had kids (Kara, Janean, any family member). My house was s.p.o.t.l.e.s.s. I cleaned it from top to bottom, room by room each and every weekend. It took me about 4 hours. It was a cozy (Realtor code for small) 1300 square foot ranch in Ohio. I even swept the huge basement floor about once a month. I changed the air filter every 3 months and had it marked on the calendar so I wouldn’t forget the precise day it needed changed.
I had three cats back then. They were all bathed in the tub every 4-6 months. Ever wash a cat in a bathtub? I don’t recommend it. But that was me. Had to have clean, clean, clean all around me. Perfectionist.
Fast forward a few years and now my house is twice the size and I have 3 kids instead of 3 cats. No basement either because we live in Florida. A lot has changed since my first house. So much.
I can’t keep it clean. I just can’t. The walls are even smudged with food from dirty, sticky, greasy little fingers. As I chase down one of the offenders to get their little grimy fingers clean something distracts me and I can’t get there in time. Smmmmudge all over the wall, carpet, seat cushion, couch, rug, table, chair… you get the idea.
Well I suppose I could keep it cleaner than I do, but that would mean cutting back on QT. I would rather watch them splash around at the water fountain park or swing and slide at the park or paint or create mass chaos out of the sand and dirt in the back yard. Call me crazy, but my house just isn’t a priority anymore.
There will come a time when I will have a s.p.o.t.l.e.s.s house again. But when that day rolls around I might just smudge a little spaghetti sauce and jelly on the wall and make a big hand print on the window just for fun.
Cuz I’ll miss them and their little craziness.
I’ll miss syrup in my hair from sticky hugs in the morning.
I’ll miss spit-up down my shoulder and back from a well fed happy baby who just burped louder than Ogre on that one movie.
I’ll miss spaghetti kisses and macaroni and cheese on my pants from a thigh high bear hug.
I’ll miss playdoh in my carpet and stickers on my floor boards.
I’ll miss sitting in applesauce at the dinner table.
I’ll miss stepping in snot that was just sneezed out of someone’s little mouth.
I’ll miss it all.
And my house will be clean. And I’ll be able to relax. And sleep. And eat without a human monkey climbing all over me. And I’ll be able to pee without an audience. And I’ll be able to do my hair AND my make-up in the morning instead of having to pick one or the other and be satisfied with that.
I’ll miss these wee ones. So much.
So. Very. Much.
Enjoy your weekend folks. Hug your kids a little tighter. Kiss your spouse a little longer. Gaze into their eyes until they look away. Fill your very soul with the love that oozes from your family.
See you Monday.