Before I had Aoife I was very house proud. We didn’t have the biggest house, it was clean and tidy but not soulless and clinical. I’ll admit that one of my proudest achievements after having Aoife was maintaining a clean and tidy house (I aim pretty low as you can tell). I didn’t obsess about it, I didn’t use valuable mummy daughter bonding time to do it. I just managed to keep on top of it.
I was winning.
Then Seth happened.
Despite all my good intentions my house hasn’t been tidy since. It’s just a constant, low level mess, like a visual version of white noise and I can’t bear it.
There’s always a greasy hand print or scratch up a wall.
There’s always a sock or random item of clothing lying around.
The curtains are always bunched up from where he has watched the neighbours coming and going.
Half the toys are under the couch along with a sippy cup and half eaten apple from who knows when.
There’s always a bit of train track in the middle of the room or bits of torn magazine on the floor.
There is always crumbs from torn up brioche or scrunched up crackers.
Food apparently tastes better when eaten via the floor.
Lord only knows where the handset of my landline is.
There’s always a wet patch from spat out drinks.
There’s always something for me to fall over.
This is all after I’ve attempted to tidy, Seth just follows me, like a small tornado, destroying everything I’ve tidied.
It drives me mad.
My conservatory isn’t a haven of tranquility where I can enjoy the peace of an evening, it’s a toy store.
As I settle down on an evening to chill out all I can see, where ever I look is toys and ‘stuff’, their idea of tidying up is to shove everything to the edge of the room.
But how long before trains, queen Elsa, beads and greasy hand prints are replaced with phones, tablets, size 11 boots, stinky sports kits and the lingering stench of Lynx or Impulse?
How long before I’m sitting in a lovely tidy house, enjoying the peace tranquility of my conservatory* because my babies aren’t part of it anymore, creating that constant low level of mess, the constant low level noise, that high level of joy and love?**
It doesn’t bare thinking about.
Ours maybe an untidy house but it’s a happy house.
*That conservatory will obviously be in the South of France where I will get over the lack of children pretty darn quickly!
I jest, of course.
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