Last Thursday, my partner turned to me, asking about our plans for the upcoming weekend. With a tinge of dread, I opened my calendar app, bracing myself for the chaos that usually fills our schedule. To my surprise, there was nothing on it. How could that be? We had been juggling at least three activities every weekend since the holiday season. It must have been a mistake. I rifled through my texts, emails, and even scoured the house for forgotten birthday invitations. But no plans were to be found.
We both did a little celebratory dance and returned to watching TV. However, my relief was short-lived. With no commitments on the horizon, it meant one thing: I had to tackle the cleaning.
There was no excuse to let the pink slime in the shower linger or to ignore the dust bunnies multiplying in the corners. How could I unwind with that shriveled grape glaring at me from beneath the recliner, its one-eyed stare practically accusing me? Yes, I noticed you. No, I’m not picking you up, even though I walk by you countless times each day.
I made a pact with myself to resist the urge to clean, no matter how intense that grape’s stare became. After all, just because I had the time didn’t mean I had to clean, right?
Friday night passed without incident. I was exhausted, and the darkness of the evening helped me overlook the grape’s presence. The following day was manageable too. Mornings are not my forte, so I easily avoided all the clutter as I struggled to wake up. We decided to take the kids to the park.
I’m not a fan of outdoor activities, much like my disdain for early mornings, but the weather was perfect—breezy with fluffy clouds, making it hard to justify staying indoors. Plus, cooped-up kids can be a nightmare. After they had thoroughly explored every inch of the park, we headed out for lunch.
My partner and I had vowed never to take our children out to eat again, a promise we’ve broken numerous times since then. Why do we keep exposing ourselves to this chaos in public? Oh, right. So I wouldn’t have to clean. I apologize to my fellow diners, but this is bigger than your desire for a peaceful meal. I’m battling the urge to tidy up over here.
Eventually, we returned home, because the only thing worse than being in a messy house is seeing the look on my partner’s face as we overstayed our welcome in public. That’s the essence of marriage: navigating the balance between your irritations and your spouse’s.
After bathtime (hello, pink slime!) and countless snack requests that resulted in untouched dinners, I finally sank into my cozy spot on the couch. Snuggling with one child while admiring my other two delightful kids and my loving partner, I thought, “I’m so lucky—ugh, that darn grape!”
It had shriveled even more since the morning, and I could swear it was winking at me. I rolled over for a deeper cuddle and closed my eyes. Not even a taunting grape could get me to abandon this cozy moment and start cleaning. Once the kids were tucked in for the night, we indulged in a binge-watching session of our latest favorite show, leaving me too distracted to care about the state of the house.
The next day was forecasted to be rainy, and I looked forward to a cozy, lazy day indoors, complete with a family Harry Potter marathon. Upon waking, it seemed like I’d get my wish. We spent most of the morning wrapped in blankets, just what I needed.
Then, out of nowhere, the sun broke through. Before I could draw the curtains, the mess hit me like a ton of bricks. Toys littered the floor, breakfast and lunch dishes remained in the living room, and the scattered crumbs made that shriveled grape look like an unfortunate decorative piece.
I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer. I tried to focus on my daughters’ lip-sync rendition of “Shake It Off,” but I couldn’t just shake it off, Taylor. You obviously have never lived in this pigsty!
I needed a moment to collect myself, so I retreated to my bedroom. On my way, I stepped on a Shopkins toy and snapped. “That’s it! Everyone up!” The next 45 minutes were a blur—a chaotic memory replaying in my mind like a disjointed war scene from a movie. There was a lot of yelling and tears, and the sound of trash bags being whipped open echoed in the background as my kids stared at me with expressions that screamed, “Why are you doing this?”
Once it was all over, I felt awful. What was I thinking? Why couldn’t I just relax? I don’t even like cleaning.
I have my theories. Moms juggle so much that we feel the need to exert control over one aspect of our environment to stave off madness. Or perhaps our chaotic lives compel us to impose some order in our homes for the sake of peace. I really don’t know. But if I could choose a superpower as a mom, it would be the ability to ignore a dirty house.
Unfortunately, that superpower seems to be reserved for dads, and I can’t imagine they’d want to trade it for our ability to breastfeed anytime soon. For more insights on parenting and family dynamics, check out this article on fertility boosters for men and visit Modern Family Blog for expert advice.
In summary, attempting to avoid cleaning for an entire weekend led to a mix of chaos and unexpected revelations. While the urge to tidy up was ever-present, I discovered the importance of balance between parenting, personal space, and the occasional messy house.