As an individual, I have long grappled with my tendency towards disorganization. This has been a source of embarrassment, particularly given the societal expectations placed on women regarding household tidiness. During my college years, male peers could leave their living spaces in utter chaos—laundry strewn about and unmade beds were simply overlooked. A casual visit meant navigating through layers of pizza boxes, while a boy’s untidy room was met with a nonchalant, “Dude, this is gross.” However, a disheveled space belonging to a woman raises eyebrows, prompting thoughts along the lines of, “Is everything okay with her?”
Historically, women are viewed as the caretakers of domestic spaces, expected to cultivate inviting environments where guests feel inclined to relax and enjoy a cup of tea. Unfortunately, this lesson in femininity seemed to evade me. I have often found myself amidst piles of dirty and clean laundry, with dishes lingering in the sink for extended periods. I rarely vacuumed and performed only the most superficial cleaning of my bathroom, reserving deeper cleans for special occasions. When guests arrived, I would spring into action, transforming my space into a semblance of order in a frantic attempt to present a different version of myself.
Living in such disarray is not my preference; I would much rather inhabit a clean home. However, the arrival of children has exponentially complicated this situation. It is a cruel irony that someone who struggled to maintain a tidy single-person household is now tasked with managing the chaos of a family of four, two of whom contribute significantly to the mess.
These little ones are like walking tornadoes, leaving trails of disorder in their wake. Sand from their shoes decorates the hallway, discarded clothes litter the path from their bedrooms to the bathtub, crumbs and rice scatter across the kitchen floor, while sticky juice residue clings to my feet. The mountain of laundry and the endless pile of dirty dishes serve as a constant reminder of my struggles, akin to a divine punishment for my past avoidance of chores.
On a positive note, I have made strides in improving my tidiness. In my single days, I would rate my cleanliness a 4 on a scale of 1 to 10. Now, as a mother, I maintain that same score on the Mom Tidiness Scale. To clarify, a 4 on this scale represents a higher level of tidiness than a 4 on the single scale. I have learned the hard way that neglecting chores only exacerbates the situation. I now tackle the dishes promptly, and I clear out backpacks and diaper bags as soon as they enter the house to avoid future chaos. Laundry is more manageable than before; had I applied this effort during my single years, my living space might have been immaculate.
Even so, I still find myself exhausted by the end of the day, collapsing in front of the television while others diligently tidy up every last scrap of paper from various activities. At least I can take solace in knowing that my home is no longer dirty. I can only hope that my newly acquired tidiness habits will endure once my children have grown and left home. Perhaps I will even reach the pinnacle of cleanliness on the Empty-Nest Tidiness Scale—imagine being the tidiest resident in a nursing home!
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In summary, while my tidiness level as a mother may not reach the heights of perfection, I have made significant progress from my single days. The journey of parenting and maintaining a clean home can be challenging, but it is possible to find balance and satisfaction in both areas.