It’s early in the morning. I’m tired, but awake, and it’s time to get ready for another day. As I stumble my way from our bedroom down the hall blurry eyed and sleepy, I’m greeted by the sight of two big piles of laundry that need to be folded and a messy dinning room table that’s covered with mail, baby stuff and God only knows what else. The kitchen counters are decorated with crumbs and the sink is filled with dirty dishes from the night before. There is dust on the bathroom floor and dried up water marks along the sink. My living room is filled with blankets, pillows, more baby stuff and water glasses. I look around overwhelmed and think to myself, “Is this really my house?”
I never really considered myself to be a neat freak, but I’ve always maintained a neat and tidy house. I like things put away in their place and clean. Prior to becoming a mom, my house was clean 99% of the time. Not only did I have the time, but I also had the energy and dedication. But the day my daughter was born changed everything. I don’t have that time, energy or dedication all the time anymore. I wake up many mornings wishing I was Sabrina the Witch where I could snap my fingers demanding a clean house and it magically just happen. Turns out, I’m not Sabrina the Witch. It also turns out I can’t be a mom and always maintain a spic and span house everyday. I guess that makes me human.
But the truth is, even though most days I wish my house were clean, deep down I don’t really care. Because I’d so much rather be hanging out with my daughter than scrubbing the bathroom tub or mopping the kitchen floor. In 10 or 20 years I don’t want to look back and think to myself, “Damn, I missed a lot of time with my kids, but I had a clean house!” No one remembers whether or not your house was clean and put together. They remember the important and special times cherished with their babies. They remember the days that challenged them to the core. The ones filled with fussy tears, explosive poopy diapers and cluster feedings around the clock. More importantly, they remember all the times they saw their baby smile and start using their voice. The days where they just wanted to be close to you and cuddle all day so you barely put them down and just stare at their little face. And the days that you looked back at them smiling thinking and knowing there was no place else you’d rather be, or anything else you’d rather be doing than sitting in your messy house, unshowered, still in sweats with nothing more accomplished of the day than taking care of and playing with your kid. I know those are the days and things I will remember.
I used to be able to sit down and write a blog without any distractions. But this blog, this blog has come with a diaper change, settling my baby girl down from a crying fit, taking her outside showing her our backyard where she will play one day, the woods where she will probably get poison ivy one day and the wind in her face that she will learn will make her cold. I dried small baby tears from her eyes and right now, I’m finishing this blog with her happily curled up in the Moby wrap nursing. So what I won’t remember was my messy unkept house. But what I will remember is that my house was lived in and loved, and more importantly, that my baby girl was lived for and loved.
~Sparke