Let’s get straight to the point: I’m terrible at decorating. There, I said it. My home is cozy enough—not too large, not too small—but it definitely doesn’t resemble the stunning spaces you see on HGTV, unless you count those “before and after” shows like Fixer Upper.
Picture this: the photos in our family room are always askew. My son has taped a magazine cutout of a baseball player over a framed family portrait. The centerpiece on our dining table? Still filled with seashells from my half-hearted attempt at seasonal decor, despite it being mid-October and prime time for decorative gourds.
When guests enter my family room, the first thing they often ask is, “Why is there a donkey on your wall?” Yes, you read that right—there’s a picture of a donkey taped up alongside a collage of portraits.
I know, I know—I’m not great at this whole decorating thing. And you know what? I don’t care that much. Well, maybe a little. I sometimes wish I could channel my inner design guru, but I also wish I had the physique of a Hollywood star. The reality is, with kids and pets running around, my motto is basically, “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
Also, I admit it—I’m kind of lazy. I don’t have the energy to hunt for matching throw pillows or research whether shiplap would even work in my home. Honestly, I still have no idea what shiplap is, but everyone seems to rave about it.
Even if I had the time and motivation to decorate like a Pottery Barn spread, the thought of constantly reminding my kids to keep their feet off a white couch or to remove their Legos from the bowl of fake gourds just doesn’t appeal to me. I’m already exhausted from reminding them to brush their teeth and to put their dirty clothes in the laundry shoot right outside their bedroom door.
I can’t even muster the energy to care about the cleanliness of hand towels in a guest bathroom I don’t even have—living with three boys means I’m just happy if the toilet seat stays down and the toilet paper gets changed regularly.
And let’s be real—I’m not a fan of HGTV. I know, it’s a controversial stance, but watching those shows only serves to highlight how bad I am at decorating and adulting, for that matter. I’ll turn on the channel feeling fine about my humble abode, but within minutes, I’m questioning all my life choices and feeling the urge to rush to the nearest home improvement store to start DIYing everything.
I’m not criticizing those who love home decor; if spending a Saturday night browsing the aisles of Lowe’s or binge-watching Property Brothers is your thing, more power to you! But while I might envy your vibrant accent walls or stylish furniture, I just can’t bring myself to do it. I lean towards minimalism and often feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices available. And every time I try to improve one area, the rest of the house just looks worse—not chic shabby, just shabby.
So, there you have it. I’m not great at decorating. As the years go by, my indifference only grows. My home looks less like a West Elm catalog and more like a chaotic toy store—think cheap plastic from Toys“R”Us, not Pottery Barn. My bedroom furniture is older than my 12-year marriage, and I can’t differentiate between paint shades like ecru and alabaster.
And I still have no clue what shiplap is.
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Summary:
In this lighthearted reflection on the author’s struggles with home decoration, she admits to her lack of skill and indifference towards creating a stylish living space. With a chaotic family life and a tendency towards minimalism, she embraces her home’s imperfections while acknowledging the appeal of well-decorated homes.