I've admitted a time or two about my need for a team from Hoarders to make an appearance at my house. Instead of crying as they rummage through our crapola, I would be cheering them on, "Faster! Faster! You can do it! I bet you can pack more in those trash bags than that! Come on guys!! Woo-hoo!" How liberating. But, since no one from A&E has knocked on my door just yet, nor has anyone answered my Help Wanted ad in the paper and sign in our front window, I'm still going at this crazy mess all by my lonesome. I'm not complaining, I promise. I'm just defending myself.....
As a Momma to five of the messiest children on the planet, and wife to a husband who is the trend setter for sloppy = cool, the only way to find balance and harmony has been to lower my standards. In the words of Abraham Lincoln (tweaked just a bit): I can keep all of the house clean some of the time. And I can keep some of the house clean all of the time. But, I absolutely CANNOT keep all of the house clean, all of the time. So, if my bathrooms are clean, my kitchen is nasty. If my bedroom is tidy, my living room is a mess. If the back porch is swept and spider web free, the garage needs an overhaul. If the garage is neat and organized, my car looks like a cheerio/spoiled sippy cup bomb exploded that was planted by toddler terrorists. Which leads me to the following incident:
Thunder, who is leader of the bomb squad in my van, defended me, "Well, my Momma does got a lot of kids."
Guess my indoors will stay a mess today, as I venture out to the driveway to "try cleaning it out."