I'd like to preface this post by saying that, despite the evidence to the contrary I'm about to present, we are not slovenly people. If you were invited to my house for the first time, you'd probably wonder how on earth I keep such a tidy house with three kids at home with me all day. You'd probably marvel at the organization of our school and play area. I'd sit you down at a gleaming kitchen countertop, offer you a latte and some freshly-baked-from-scratch pumpkin muffins, and you'd think you'd stepped into a page of Martha Stewart Living.
I call it the First Visit Facade.
Truthfully, as much as I love a perfectly put together house, our place is messy more often than not. Today was a particularly messy day. If you stopped by my house unannounced at 2:00 this afternoon, here's what would have greeted you.
Welcome to the post-sweeping contents of our kitchen floor.
That poor apricot crayon never knew what was coming.
Then there's the random clutter that threatened to take over the place. I'm not just talking about the lone shoe here and there.
Although we had those, too.
I mean random piles of crap stuff, such as receipts, plastic fruit, magazines, and Valentine's candy.
Music strewn about the floor as if Beethoven lived here.
Remote control in the fruit bowl. I have no explanation.
And other things in places they don't belong (ahem).
Then there's the coffee table. I see no coffee. I don't even see room for coffee.
I do, however, see zebra striped heels on the couch. Don't judge.
Still more piles of books and book-like-things.
And who touched Mommy's crocheting?! OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!!
Perhaps you've seen enough. But we're not done, my friend. Let's go visit the basement, shall we? The kids have pretty much had free reign down there for the past two days, what with the blizzard and all.
And by "free reign" I mean "Free-for-all Reign of Terror."
My OCD friends are probably having a conniption by now.
There really is a place for all this crap stuff.
This poor little guy just couldn't take it. That's right, buddy. Bury your head in the sand.
Nor can Mr. Bear. I can't say I blame you, little fella.
It's an epidemic! It seems no one wants to face this reality.
Except for Barbie, of course. She's game for anything.
Now you OCD folk can calm down. We did clean up after I set down the camera. I promise.
You're all welcome to come over for lattes. See that gleaming countertop? (Better hurry, it won't last.)
So there you have it, folks. I share this in the hopes that it makes you feel better about the state of your living space. Unless you're one of those people whose house actually is spotless all the time, in which case I hope your kid spills Kool-aid on your carpet.