Last Thursday, my partner, Alex, inquired about our plans for the weekend. As I reluctantly opened my calendar app, I braced myself for the chaos ahead. To my surprise, there was absolutely nothing scheduled. How could this be? We had been juggling at least three events each weekend since before the holidays. Surely, there must be some mistake. I scoured my messages and emails, reread school newsletters, and even rummaged through the house for any forgotten invitations. Yet, it was confirmed: we were free this weekend.
Alex and I did an impromptu seated happy dance before sinking back into our couch. However, the joy of freedom was short-lived for me. With no obligations, I realized I would have to confront the reality of…CLEANING THE HOUSE. There was no way I could ignore the pink slime in the shower or the dust bunnies multiplying in the corners. How could I possibly relax while that old grape lay under the recliner, glaring at me with its one-eyed stare? Yes, I see you. No, I’m not picking you up despite walking past you countless times.
Determined to resist the compulsion to clean, I told myself that just because I had the time didn’t mean I had to act on it. Right?
Friday Night and Saturday Adventures
Friday night passed in a blur. I was tired, and it was dark, so I only spotted that old grape once. The following day was manageable as well. Not a morning person, I easily ignored the mess around me while trying to wake up. Soon, we gathered the kids and ventured to the park. I’m not fond of the outdoors, but the perfect weather and my cooped-up children made it a necessity. After the kids had their fill of climbing, swinging, and devouring snacks, we headed out for lunch.
Alex and I had vowed never to dine out with the kids again, a promise we’ve broken repeatedly. Why had we subjected ourselves to this chaos? Ah, yes—so I wouldn’t have to clean up afterward. To my fellow diners, I apologize, but my battle against the urge to clean takes precedence over your desire for a peaceful meal.
Eventually, we returned home, because nothing is worse than lingering in a messy house or witnessing the look on Alex’s face as we overstay our welcome in public. That’s the essence of marriage, isn’t it? A constant balancing act between your quirks and your partner’s.
After bath time (hello, pink slime!) and a barrage of snack requests that led to unfinished dinners, I finally sank into my spot on the couch. Snuggled with one child while admiring my other two and Alex, I thought, “I’m so lucky—ugh, that darn grape!” It looked even more shriveled now and, to my horror, seemed to be winking at me. I rolled over for a deeper cuddle and shut my eyes. Even the taunting grape couldn’t drag me away from the bliss of snuggling. Once the kids were tucked in, Alex and I indulged in our latest binge-watch, completely oblivious to the state of the house.
The Morning After
The next morning promised rain, and I anticipated a cozy day indoors, complete with a family Harry Potter marathon. The morning unfolded perfectly, filled with blankets and relaxation—exactly what I needed.
But then, the sun broke through, and before I could draw the curtains, I was greeted by chaos. Toys were strewn across the floor, breakfast plates still cluttered the living room, and the crumbs scattered about made that shriveled grape look like an intentional decor choice. I realized my resolve was waning. I tried to focus on my daughters’ performance of “Shake It Off,” but I couldn’t just shake it off, Taylor. You clearly haven’t lived in this mess.
I needed to take a breather in my bedroom. On my way to escape, I stepped on a Shopkins toy and snapped. “That’s it! Everyone up!” The next 45 minutes became a chaotic blur. It played out in my mind like a war scene from a film—yelling, crying, and the sound of trash bags being torn open while my kids stared at me as if I had lost my mind.
Once the dust settled, I felt awful. Why was I acting this way? Why couldn’t I just relax? Cleaning was never something I enjoyed.
Reflections on Control and Chaos
I have a couple of theories on this matter: Perhaps it’s because moms juggle so much that we need to exert control over our surroundings to maintain sanity. Or maybe life’s chaos compels us to create order in our homes as a means of achieving peace. I’m not entirely sure. What I do know is that if I could choose a superpower related to motherhood, it would be the ability to overlook a messy house.
Unfortunately, that superpower seems exclusive to dads, and I highly doubt they’ll be trading it for our ability to breastfeed anytime soon.
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In summary, my weekend experiment of avoiding cleaning turned into a chaotic adventure filled with the ups and downs of family life. Ultimately, despite the mess, I learned a little more about my relationship with order and cleanliness.