In 2012, I became a working mom and the state of my house quickly took a turn for the worse. I wrote about being a Messy Mom. I tried to connect with you and free myself from those devlish sour stirrings of ineptitude.
It may have come off that I’m totally okay with the state of my house. The truth? It was all a big coverup. A scam. In reality, I covet the Pinterest playrooms and master bedrooms with space and light. I dream of simplicity, trailing my fingers across rows of size ordered books, perfect pops of color and whimsy and a smudge-free refrigerator door.
But, my reality. I have three kids. And a Saint Bernard. I work. I’m trying to be okay with it. Really, I am.
Baby steps.
What helps me take these steps is seeing homes that exist like mine. Homes with dishes in the sink, make-shift throw spots of papers, Lego creations cascading down the stairs. I feel like I can breathe being around such life. I feel free. And yet, here I am, still putting the pressure on myself. Sound familiar?
If so, read on.
I dare you to fail, mommy.
Embrace the massacre of doll shoes and blocks. Bare minimums this summer. Be a vacuuming slacker. Stay at the lake until the sun is going down, make entire driveways of chalk villages, discover the lost art of the perfect mud-restaurant.
When the kids are asleep, go for a run. Pick up a book. Check out a new station on Pandora while painting your toenails. Spread a blanket on the grass in the night and listen. Just listen.
And when a neighbor drops in unexpectedly and you instinctively clench your teeth over the fur, the cups and the mess, smile instead and dare her.
