Not too long ago, the idea of having friends or family over was extremely stressful and overwhelming for me. I’m blessed with wonderful and caring friends and in-laws and I truly enjoy spending time with them, but I rarely extended invitations to the house b/c I would fret over it so much. What would I cook? I’m a terrible cook! Can John cook? When can I give the house a good cleaning? Will they enjoy themselves? Usually my best chance to get the house in order was several days before the get together and I knew what a mess it would be in again before the big day. Will I have time to sweep and clean up the zillions of toys? It all seems so silly writing it down, but these things would keep me up at night. Even with John being a huge help (and he absolutely is) I had unrealistic expectations that the house needed to be in pristine condition to entertain guests, even close friends.
My mom always did such a great job of keeping the house in order even when we were younger and demanding on her time. And now it always looks clean and inviting. The only time it looks bad is when all of us kids and grandkids converge and even then it just looks like suitcases exploded in an otherwise clean and well kept home. To this day if she’s expecting anyone she cleans the house with a vengeance. Every square inch has been dusted from ceiling vents to baseboards. Every single tile has been scrubbed. Every curtain, blind, window, and mirror. I remember when we were old enough she would have us help clean the house from top to bottom before we left on a vacation insisting we would be glad to come home to a clean house (she was right). I don’t know how she did it, but I try to remind myself that mom was a SHM, a domestic engineer, and at the times I’m remembering anyway, had three kids in school. Regardless, she worked extremely hard making our house a comfortable home.
Lately, I’m excited if I take 5 minutes to swish the toilet wand around the bowl while the girls play in the tub. At my house you’ll find clean folded clothes piled up on every surface (not in the drawers). You’ll find dust bunnies in the corners of every room thanks to our hardwood floors. You’ll find art work taped to walls, mirrors, and the refrigerator. You’ll find stickers on absolutely every surface from those nice hardwood floors to the toilet bowl to Sammy’s car seat, to our own butts. You’ll find hair ponies and barrettes, shoes and socks scattered absolutely everywhere. The bathroom mirror hasn’t been cleaned in a month b/c Loretta and Caroline drew some beautiful flowers after a hot shower one night. These things all caused me such angst when we considered having people over.
The fear of entertaining at home was not something we had to deal with often though. We effectively evaded hints that perhaps we should host the next book club, holiday, girls’ dinner, whatever. We basically saved our energy for one big party at our house a year. Usually in the summer time since the house was so small (praying for sunshine) we would invite everyone we’ve ever known to make up for the numerous invites to their house over the year. Otherwise, we traveled to their homes or we all met out. Now that we have three getting a sitter becomes very expensive and traveling is more complicated.
Lately, perhaps out of necessity, I’ve been able to start cutting myself some slack. I’ve realized that our friends and family would rather spend time with us, getting pizza delivered and eating in full view of a few dust bunnies rather than not see us at all. That they’d rather pass a drooling Sammy around and watch Loretta and Caroline put on a song and dance in a cluttered and half settled house. They’d happily wait patiently for me to get the girls teeth brushed and them in bed before we can have a glass of wine and laugh and talk and catch up rather than me decline an invite out with the girls b/c John has to work and we shouldn’t splurge for a sitter again this month.
Sure, I still run around like a crazed woman just before company arrives. I’ll sweep and wipe down surfaces. Make sure there aren’t little girl panties hanging from any doorknobs (don’t even know how that happens but they show up in the oddest places). I want the house to look nice, but I no longer beat myself up if it doesn’t. More importantly, I no longer deny myself the company of good friends.
My mom always did such a great job of keeping the house in order even when we were younger and demanding on her time. And now it always looks clean and inviting. The only time it looks bad is when all of us kids and grandkids converge and even then it just looks like suitcases exploded in an otherwise clean and well kept home. To this day if she’s expecting anyone she cleans the house with a vengeance. Every square inch has been dusted from ceiling vents to baseboards. Every single tile has been scrubbed. Every curtain, blind, window, and mirror. I remember when we were old enough she would have us help clean the house from top to bottom before we left on a vacation insisting we would be glad to come home to a clean house (she was right). I don’t know how she did it, but I try to remind myself that mom was a SHM, a domestic engineer, and at the times I’m remembering anyway, had three kids in school. Regardless, she worked extremely hard making our house a comfortable home.
Lately, I’m excited if I take 5 minutes to swish the toilet wand around the bowl while the girls play in the tub. At my house you’ll find clean folded clothes piled up on every surface (not in the drawers). You’ll find dust bunnies in the corners of every room thanks to our hardwood floors. You’ll find art work taped to walls, mirrors, and the refrigerator. You’ll find stickers on absolutely every surface from those nice hardwood floors to the toilet bowl to Sammy’s car seat, to our own butts. You’ll find hair ponies and barrettes, shoes and socks scattered absolutely everywhere. The bathroom mirror hasn’t been cleaned in a month b/c Loretta and Caroline drew some beautiful flowers after a hot shower one night. These things all caused me such angst when we considered having people over.
The fear of entertaining at home was not something we had to deal with often though. We effectively evaded hints that perhaps we should host the next book club, holiday, girls’ dinner, whatever. We basically saved our energy for one big party at our house a year. Usually in the summer time since the house was so small (praying for sunshine) we would invite everyone we’ve ever known to make up for the numerous invites to their house over the year. Otherwise, we traveled to their homes or we all met out. Now that we have three getting a sitter becomes very expensive and traveling is more complicated.
Lately, perhaps out of necessity, I’ve been able to start cutting myself some slack. I’ve realized that our friends and family would rather spend time with us, getting pizza delivered and eating in full view of a few dust bunnies rather than not see us at all. That they’d rather pass a drooling Sammy around and watch Loretta and Caroline put on a song and dance in a cluttered and half settled house. They’d happily wait patiently for me to get the girls teeth brushed and them in bed before we can have a glass of wine and laugh and talk and catch up rather than me decline an invite out with the girls b/c John has to work and we shouldn’t splurge for a sitter again this month.
Sure, I still run around like a crazed woman just before company arrives. I’ll sweep and wipe down surfaces. Make sure there aren’t little girl panties hanging from any doorknobs (don’t even know how that happens but they show up in the oddest places). I want the house to look nice, but I no longer beat myself up if it doesn’t. More importantly, I no longer deny myself the company of good friends.
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