I love seeing pictures of homes all pretty and clean. Decorative pillows line the couch and throw blankets are folded nicely across the ottoman. A trio of candles are lit on the mantle and the latest décor graces the walls. My Pinterest feed is full of pictures like this. My home on the other hand, on a daily basis, is not one of them.
Let’s be real
If you were in the area and had the sudden urge to stop by, I would love it. I would rejoice in your comfort of casually dropping in. As you step inside you’ll immediately notice a pile of laundry in the living room. It’s clean, just in need of folding. The throw blankets will be wadded up on the couch. The pillows will be on the floor. The dining room table will be covered in markers and unfinished masterpieces. There will be dishes in the sink, mail and homework on the counter, and a bazillion tiny army men, My Little Ponies, dinosaurs, Hatchimals, or Lego creations underfoot. Guaranteed.
Don’t get me wrong, I love it when my home is clean. When it smells warm and spicy, with natural sunlight streaming through the windows. I love it when the messes are put away and candles can be safely lit without worry of being a fire hazard. But I love to write and to read and to try my hand at new crafting projects. I love to sit on the deck with neighbors and watch the children play. I love to let my children play outside as well as inside. I love for my children to be children. That means that sometimes in their play, their exploration, and their creativity, they make messes. Big messes.
Permission
It’s quite embarrassing, I know. I would much rather have a clean house. But years ago, I gave myself permission that it was okay. It’s okay to have a mess, or two, or twelve. It’s okay to live life and not live an appearance. I like to be more than the maid, the cook, and the chauffeur. I like to be more than the mom and the wife. I like to be a neighbor and a friend. Someday, years from now, my children won’t be here. They’ll be too old to play with toys. The pillows will grow dusty on the couch and the counter will be rid of the permanent sticky syrup residue. Not today.
Had I known you were coming, I would have cleaned. I do care about how my house looks – but sometimes I really don’t. The honest truth is I care more about you, the friend who stopped by unannounced, more than how impressive my house appears. I promise my house isn’t really that dirty, it’s just a superficial mess.
Relationships matter
So, stop by. Come in. Don’t mind the mess, we live here. Have a cup of coffee or a glass of Sangria. I want to know how you are; how things are going in your life. Friends matter. Relationships matter. You’re here now and that’s what’s important. I’ll have a Pinterest-approved house for the Christmas party. Today, I’m me and you’re you and we can just be real.
