It’s not what I pictured, but I feel at peace.
It’s another way to let go a little, but not completely — fake cleaning.
Our home is good enough (read: clean enough) for what it’s for. It has to be. Do I wish I did more? Of course. But, for me, right now this level of “clean” is manageable and sustainable, which keeps our home and me in a good enough, if not great, place.
Some days in the midst of the non-stop swirl that is this toddler-tornado life, I look around and think, “This is not how I pictured my motherhood.“
A long time ago I got real about my skills in the kitchen and handed that dream over to the husband. But a dirty home? This was not me.
I’ve always prided myself on my ultra-tidy ways. When I got married I let go a little simply because I couldn’t maintain that same degree of cleanliness in a shared space. When baby made three, I let go completely. I could not keep up with it all: the house, the yard, AND sole manager of the onslaught of never-ending kid stuff.
I loved our home, but I needed the peace that comes from the appearance of a semi-controlled space.
One night while mindlessly scrolling through Pinterest/silently berating myself about our filthy floors, I found the concept of FAKING a clean house.
Oh, permission to lower my expectations and a few doable steps? Just what I needed.
How I Fake a Clean House
Step 1: Tidy up.
Toys in one spot. Pillows fluffed and blankets folded. Shoes lined up at the front door.
Step 2: Clear a table.
Kitchen table, dining room table, whatever. Just one. The random assortment of bills, junk mail, and beloved daycare artwork not organized, but simply removed from sight.
Step 3: Spot clean floors.
Hit the obvious ones with a baby wipe or two.
Step 4: Light a candle and dim the lights.
Ambiance means everything.
Step 5: Call it good and sit down already.
Outsource the rest if/when you can. If that doesn’t get done, even if for a while, we’ll be okay.
It’s About Love.
Preserve your energy for the places that need it most. For riding the waves of no-nap days, staying outside of someone else’s meltdown, and delivering one more kiss at bedtime.