Embracing the Beauty of a ‘Lived-In’ Home

home insemination Kit

I’ve always considered myself relatively organized. I manage my time well and don’t expect any accolades for it. But despite my efforts to reign in my perfectionist tendencies and recognize the chaotic nature of life with kids, a single visit to a child-free home had me spiraling into self-criticism.

Recently, my family and I took a weekend trip to the mountains. After a day of skiing, we stayed with a lovely couple—friends of ours—who don’t have children. Within moments of stepping into their pristine home, I felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over me. Everything was impeccably arranged, serene, and calm. Their conversations were soft-spoken and gentle; ours, however, were anything but. The refrigerator was a gleaming sanctuary, housing fresh produce that seemed to await its destiny as a gourmet meal served amid articulate discussions. Not a bottle of ketchup in sight.

That night, I was grateful that our children were so worn out from our day that they were practically in a food coma. Traveling with preteens can be a bit like trying to herd cats—chaotic, unpredictable, and full of surprises that often resemble the antics of a mischievous imp. Surprisingly, breakfast went smoothly, and we enjoyed a peaceful evening binge-watching reruns of The Office. It felt like a win! But as I snuggled into their unblemished couch at just 8:30 p.m., I couldn’t help but imagine what our home would look like on a typical weeknight.

As we drove back, my mind raced with fantasies of cleanliness! I needed to sanitize the fridge—oh wait! I should probably clean out the car first. Next on the agenda? Purging everything we owned. Should I involve the kids in that plan? Tough call—what a dream that would be, right?

Upon arriving home, I was struck by the sheer disarray. The Christmas garland was still hanging as February was drawing to a close, and a broken decorative plate was precariously resting next to the ice melt bag by the front door. One might assume we had been swept into a witness protection program after a holiday heist.

Inside, the dishes were stacked high in the sink, and forgotten laundry festered in the corner. A red glitter Christmas tree and a Valentine’s heart were both in view—at least I maintain a consistent holiday aesthetic, right?

Without hesitation, I drafted a to-do list for my family, demanding that we spend one of our last vacation days restoring order to our chaotic kingdom. Ten-hut!

But then I heard it: the tone of my commands shifted from playful to bossy. I could sense the family dynamic changing; I could almost hear Annie’s “It’s the Hard Knock Life” playing in the background. I took a step back and remembered the last few years spent trying to loosen my grip on perfection. This perceived disorder wasn’t just a personal failure; it was a collective morale issue.

So, I decided to let everyone off the hook and reassess the situation. While I find joy in tidiness and tranquility, I know that my children are just that—children. We function better without the pressure to be perfect. I’ve made strides in battling my inner perfectionist (though I still have room for improvement). It’s time to embrace the beauty of the noise, the life, and the chaos, and let go of the rest—even if just a little bit more.

For now, I make an effort to cherish my moments of solitude. When my family is away, I enjoy the peace and take a moment to appreciate the small things I can control. When I look around and see disorder, it reminds me that I’ve given myself the freedom to step outside the roles of mother and maid.

Did I spend part of my day tackling the mess? Absolutely! My car is now free of stray food crumbs, random clothes, and scattered papers, and my fridge no longer houses moldy leftovers. I owe my inspiration to our child-free friends! However, the bedrooms remain a disaster zone, and the laundry is still waiting to be folded. The Christmas garland will have to hang a little longer, possibly until next year. One day, my kids will grow up and move out, and I’ll definitely miss the mess, the laughter, and the delightful chaos. In the meantime, I’ll aim for a balance that’s messier than I’d prefer.

And by the way, does anyone have a red glitter shamrock I can borrow? St. Patrick’s Day is just around the corner (you can expect it back by September).