Old me had a very clean house. It was organized and spotless. I dusted once a week, and used products like Pledge on my wood furniture. Everything looked and smelled fantastic, and you could eat off the floor (okay, that’s not true – I still had furry babies). New me doesn’t remember the last time I dusted. Sometimes, I comment on how badly I need to dust and the boys excitedly offer to help. It’s more of a dust smearing experience then, but they have fun with it. Things are somewhat organized, but definitely more cluttered. Brian says he likes the extra stuff lying around – it makes our house look like a home. I’m glad someone’s enjoying stepping over legos and dinosaurs. Old me used to go to the beach and paint on canvas. New me doesn’t even put down a drop cloth anymore when my 3 and 5 year old paint pumpkins, paper plates, my printer paper, and whatever else looks like it needs a splash of color.
My carpet is stained and my heart is full. I’m slowly learning not to care about the mess and spend my precious down time with my husband and kids. There’s only so many hours in a day, and there seems to be even fewer when you’re raising little people. I refuse to waste my time cleaning – old me just cringed thinking of cleaning as a waste of time. But, spending time on something I won’t care about (or even remember) 20 years from now is a waste of my time. Even if my house looked like a page out of Better Homes and Gardens, I would never walk around my house taking pictures of pristine sitting areas and spotless windows (no offense to interior photographers – just not my thing). However, when my boys ask to do the dishes after dinner, I will set up a ladder outside my kitchen window to preserve the memory. I won’t care about the water on the floor or the dishes that still have food stuck to them. I will laugh with my children and smile as I put these images in their scrapbooks.
