There are doors that stay shut in my house, just because I cannot handle to see the constant mess on the other side.
I am grateful the kitchen is at the back of my downstairs – that way the dishes and clutter stay out of my routine line-of-sight.
I can usually manage to keep the living room clean, and that’s why I spend 90% of my days here.
The mess in my house gets me so incredibly stressed out sometimes. There is a constant mental struggle to not beat myself up over what I feel should be a more organized home.
Yesterday I tried to console myself with this one thought:
It won’t ALWAYS be like this.
The kids will grow up, move on, I will find myself with time and inclination to clean and organize, entertain, do crafts, enjoy my space.
These things are inevitable.
As is something else:
It WON’T always be like this.
I won’t always have a silly snuggle available to me at any moment. I won’t always have eager kisses from a pudgy little dude. I won’t always be able to easily impress someone with my basic knowledge of math. I won’t always have loud, busy dinner conversation with a bustling group of chatterboxes. I won’t always be able to make memories out of the smallest of shared experiences.
My kids WILL grow up and move on. I will miss them immensely. And the cleanest house on earth couldn’t make up for any of the time I trade with them right now.
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