No Magazine House To See Here

On the floor in front of me there is a basket full of clean, folded clothes. Those nicely folded clothes probably won’t get put away in their proper place for (at least) another day, and that is hoping that neither of the kids climb into the basket and throw the clothes all over the floor. Our washer and dryer is rarely empty, and you can always find laundry in every room of our house. Most days I still have no idea how a family of four manages to wear so many clothes. I cloth diapered Gavin, and started to use cloth on Tanner when he was an infant, but I could not keep up with the laundry. I did not drop down to part time status at work just to launder clothes all day!

The sink always has dishes just waiting to be washed. Our dishwasher is currently broken – Jim is pretty sure the motor needed to be replaced, which thankfully he is totally capable of doing. When it first broke, I spent about two hours washing dishes by hand while the kids beat on each other in the background. I immediately texted Jim while he was at work to make sure he brings home paper plates, plastic cutlery, and red solo cups because fuck that.  I literally do not have time to wash dishes all day. Yes, there was a time when we survived without a dishwasher and it was totally okay, but that was before having two boys that you cannot turn your back on for two seconds.

Toys are spread throughout every room of my house. We tried turning our sun room into a playroom to confine all of the toys, until all the toys spilled out and spread throughout the rest of our house. Even the basement, which was always a no-kid-zone with a bar, pool table, and gaming area, has a giant kid’s play area right in the heart of it. In front of the bar, that is. The bar that we no longer sit at with friends to party hardy at because we don’t want to wake the kids up at night.

Because I have a child with high sensory needs, and too small of a house to offer a special “sensory room,” we have a trampoline in the dining room. On top of that, we have a pretty large crash pad that is usually smack dab in the middle of the living room. Both of these are a necessity in our day to day lives. I can see a large weighted blanket thrown on the other end of the couch, and a sensory body sock at my feet. There are fidget (way more than the fidget spinners) and sensory toys all over the damn place. So basically if somebody new steps foot into our house, there are almost always questions about all this “special needs stuff” in every room of the house. Whatever, it’s our normal.

So here’s the thing. Basically I do the best that I can as far as being super domestic. My children are always clothed. The fridge and pantry are always stocked with healthy (and not so healthy) things to eat. We eat a bangin’ home cooked meal most nights and even my pickiest eater will not go hungry. I make sure that we aren’t living in filth, even though you take one look at my house and see all of the toys and laundry and want to scream running for the hills.

A magazine house may never be in the cards for me. At least not this set of cards. The days that I do spend all day being a clean freak my children are miserable. Tanner will cry at my feet the whole time. Gavin will act a fool. Right now, at this point in my life, I am supposed to be the best mother that I can be for my children. They are only going to be this small once. Each day they grow a little older. I was not born to do housework and die. The laundry will always be there. And yes, one day, this house will be spotless and there may be nice things.

Just not the important things.

cleanhouse

 

 

 

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