I have a confession.
(This is my laundry room folding table…)
My house is not always clean. I know that you probably thought it was, but it’s not.
Truth: I rarely have people over unexpectedly. My mom and mother in law are probably the only two people on the planet who get to see my house in its everyday state, and its because they have stopped over unplanned.
When I know someone is coming, I clean house – or at least I throw everything into a room, close the door and pretend to have an always clean house.
And it is stressful. Needing things to be clean is just how my desire to appear to have it all together all the time manifests itself. It causes me to stay up way too late, get up way too early and sometimes, unfortunately, to get way too mad at my kids.
And it also causes me to worry a lot about how I am perceived as woman, wife and mother. I don’t think we realize that the facade we create to appear to have it all together puts a lot of pressure on other moms to “have it all together.”
So here is another fact: I don’t have it all together. My house is a mess, I am wearing clothes from yesterday, my kids are still in their pajamas, I am tired and I still need to brush my teeth.
But, we are having fun.
God is doing some work in me lately, and He is teaching me (once again! seriously – I am not a quick learner apparently…) that I need to let go of control. In order to be happy, I need to embrace the chaos of this season of motherhood. I need to understand that living life with kids doesn’t look like clean houses and a shoe rack with shoes arranged in order by size….
It looks like pillows and blankets on the floor from snuggling to watch a movie.
It looks like dishes in the sink from dinner last night that we ate together around the dinner table.
It looks like a dirty laundry pile in the corner of the living room because excited children can’t always keep their paint on the paper.
And it looks like having a pile of clean laundry waiting to be put in drawers, because I was needed more for snuggles on the couch this week than I was needed in the laundry room.
Don’t be surprised if next time you come over, I invite you into my mess, and wipe off a corner of the table so you don’t stick to it while drinking your coffee because my life is messy.
And embracing it means not pretending that it isn’t.