My kids leave a trail of mess the way a slug leaves a trail of slime. I'm not saying it's good or bad. It just is. We're working on getting Preschooler in Chief to clean up one activity before moving on to the next, but strict supervision is involved. And with a wiggly baby in tow, I can't be watching every enthusiastic venture PIC makes into the toy cupboard.
So there's mess. There's clutter. There are crumbs. Mix in the fact that my house accumulated an abnormal amount of clutter, junk mail, and mess while PIC was in the hospital. For two months, I was at the house at night to sleep, to eat a late dinner before bed and an early breakfast before heading back to the hospital. I hadn't done much cleaning. I hadn't done much cooking. Kind and generous friends filled my belly with food--and as a result--my kitchen with plastic containers.
Little did I know, all I needed to get things back in shape was the anticipation of a non-family member or close friend to stir my drive to organize. And this past week it was the pending visit by Aspiring Writer Friend. I was driven. Driven to clean. Driven to purge extras. Driven to get my house back where it belongs. Drawers were emptied and organized. Counters were shined to a sparkling glow. Toys were sorted and stacked in bins. Clothing was washed and folded. Dishes were done. Appliances were organized and tucked into cupboards. Apparently, the messier my house is when you come to visit, the better friends we are--and vice versa. I suppose part of my drive was just to prove to myself that despite what my family has been through, I really do have it together. Look at me in my clean house thriving, living, smiling, surviving. I even managed to get both kids to nap at the same time! I'm practically Wonder Woman.
I look forward to the day when AWF and I are close enough that the mess will be left, not because I enjoy living in disarray. But, rather, AWF is a super cool chick and it will mean that our relationship has been elevated to a to a new level of friendship that comes complete with toys strewn in every room, baskets flowing out of the laundry room, and dried up goop on the countertop. But I suppose the downside is that I will lose some of my motivation to clean. That is until I need to prove to myself that I'm still holding it all together.