messy house

We ate at a neighbours house tonight and toured their lovely home before dinner. As I was touring, the whole time I was thinking "I wonder if their house is always this clean?" Am I the only one that struggles with a clean house? I doubt it, but sometimes I feel like it.

Here are some of my theories as to why I struggle with keeping our house clean/tidy:

1. We have 4 kids under 6 years old. Enough said.

2. I'm a bit of a perfectionist. You would think that would make me have a clean house, but it actually is a de-motivating thing for me. I only feel satisfied with the state of my house when it is ALL clean. This means no clutter and everything in it's place. This is obviously impossible. Just typing this I realize how ridiculous it is. I need to really internalize how ridiculous this is and be happy with being able to tidy up here and there and be satisfied with that.

3. I also feel like I need to want a tidy home for the right reason. It should not be because I want to fulfill this illusion of a perfect mother and wife who always has a clean home, kids perfectly groomed, and a healthy homecooked meal on the table. I need to want to be orderly because of the spirit that it invites into our home. Things are more peaceful. Children are more content. I need to find joy in this aspect of motherhood and help our children learn to work. I also need to care more about our children's state of being, than our house's. There will be plenty of days after the kids are gone that the house will stay clean and organized. I just googled for this poem. I've never heard the whole thing before. I love it. 


Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo

The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

- Ruth Hulbert Hamilton



 
The end..........not sure if any of this made sense.......but whatev..........