No, I'm not talking about the food thing. That is covered territory, which I'm actually pretty okay talking about by now.
Today's topic is one of the most embarrassing, frustrating issues in my life today; and when I wrote about it before, you probably figured I was just OCD exaggerating. But I will now share with you indisputable proof that my house is a fucking mess.
Whywhywhy--after all the care I've taken to crop the squalor out of the photos I post on here--would I zoom right in and advertise every grimy nook and cranny?
Because I want your help to fix it. A lot of moms blog about their mission to regain their pre-baby bodies, so the rest of us can follow along and offer encouragement and advice, and maybe pick up a few tips for ourselves. I need your support to help me reclaim my pre-baby home.
Although I'm the first to admit that the state of this place is almost inexcusable, some blame belongs with the house itself--a house we purchased explicitly in which to start a family. But in our naivete and eagerness to get busy and make babies, we overlooked the lack of closet space and the cramped, awkwardly laid-out kitchen. We didn't anticipate needing one of the three bedrooms to serve as a home office for two or that we'd miss the garage the previous owners knocked down to make space for the inground pool (an overrated, high-maintenance hole we didn't know we'd get to swim in maybe twice a year once the kids arrived).
But thanks to the housing market putting us among the ranks of thousands who owe more on their homes than what they're currently worth, we're not going to be searching for a more suitable abode any time soon. We know we are lucky to have the one we've got. But the stress of looking at pile after pile of shit day after day--and the humiliation of looking at it through someone else's eyes when we're expecting company--has taken a significant toll (speaking for myself here, but I'm sure Brian--who works his ass off around here--doesn't love it either).
When I try to clean, every ounce of irritation I've ever felt about anything over my 30 years on this planet surfaces. I throw a few things out. Stuff a few piles of crap in a drawer. Sweep around giant bags of shoe samples and crates of diapers. Scrub. Curse. Cry. Give up.
I was running through this very procedure this morning when I was hit with an epiphany--the brilliant (more like insane) idea I tweeted about earlier. I started snapping pictures of all the stuff I dread having anyone see. The boxes, the stove covered with dirty dishes, the crummy cabinets that are falling apart. My brilliant idea was that I'd put it all out there. "If they thought I was 'brave' [crazy] to put the ED shit out there, wait'll they get a load of this," I thought.
Operation Help Me Get a Handle on this House
I decided it was time to be honest. Though I've never claimed to be any kind of Holly Homemaker, I didn't come right out and confess that my foyer looks like a junkyard either. So from here out, I'm going to post regularly on my mission to transform this pit into a home with:- Optimum safe, open space for the kids to roam (currently, they're gated into the living/dining room most of the time)
- Productive, peaceful work space for Brian and me
- Bedrooms that promote rest and retreat
- Bathrooms that are clean and uncluttered
- A functional, clutter-free kitchen
- An inviting entryway
- Clean
- Organize
- Repair what needs fixing
- Upgrade/improve
- Beautify
- Maintain (this one might be the hardest)
So where do you come in? Tell me where to start. Pester me about the progress. Convince me that it's possible to get all this stuff under control. Give me tips. Hell, if you're a PR person, give me stuff that will help me make the most of this space. (Note: I do not need more clutter and/or junk. But if you'd like me to try/review something useful, please send an email to deb@spawnocalypse.com.) And sure, feel free to chastise me for my horrific housekeeping or point out how plenty of working parents keep everything spic and span and still have lives and spend meaningful time with their children. Hate mail will only draw more readers, so bring it.
A tour of the estate
Now that our roles are straightened out (Ironic how organized I'm capable of being, no?), onto the tour I promised.FOYER
The potential we saw in this spacious entryway was one of the things we loved most about the house when we bought it. The boxes--which come by the dozen some weeks--are for Brian's work. We don't have a maintenance staff, so need a system to get these regularly broken down and tied for recycling. But if you're moving and need a few, email me!
KITCHEN
That cabinet door just came off in my hand on a recent humid day. And all the upper cabinets are the same over-the-fridge design. The laminate is coming off the counters. The sink is in an idiotic place and there is no dishwasher or good place to put one. The color, though, was my lunacy.
MASTER BEDROOM
My college dorm room was neater than this (maybe because my roommate was about 1,000x tidier than Brian, but still). Here we store all of the shit we don't want the kids and/or guests seeing or touching. Some needs to be given/thrown away or stored in the basement (which, as you can imagine, is a disorganized, mildewey dungeon). The paint is peeling because we thought we were too cool to prime.
OFFICE
More shit that we don't want to rot in the basement or have messed with by the kids. And, yeah, we actually work here. There are filing cabinets under there somewhere. And a closet full of my outdated, ill-fitting clothes. (Note: There are only three closets in the house--in the office, our bedroom, and Gunnar's room--and they are all the exact depth of a children's clothes hanger, forcing us to turn ours sideways.)
LIVING/DINING ROOM
This is the main place the kids hang out. We don't have an extra den or any area to create a playroom. So, the toys and books and crap that occupy your "worst room" adorn our best.
Ahh. I think that's enough tour for now. The nurseries are actually fairly normal looking, as I try very hard not to fill them with my crap, and the kids don't play upstairs much. The bathrooms have their issues, but are really too small for me to wreck too badly.
Alright, then. I may very well hit publish. Here goes.
