You can’t come to my place. I’m not joking or being dramatic here. I’m not engaging in the “oops, my throw pillows are askew” charade (though, yes, my throw pillows are indeed askew). I’m not obsessively fretting over a few dishes in the sink—trust me, there are dishes in the sink—but I’m not delusional either.
My home is a complete disaster, and you really can’t step inside. It’s the kind of mess that would make you gasp in horror. Thus, aside from my mother, no one has entered our home in nearly a year.
This isn’t an exaggeration.
While my house is cluttered, it’s not filthy. There are no pests, no food lying around, and definitely no grossness or abandoned drinks. We keep the dishes neatly stacked by the sink. Laundry? It may not be folded, but it’s clean and organized in baskets, thanks to my partner. We also keep up with taking out the trash, at least.
But when it comes to everything else, my place is a total wreck.
First off, if the White Witch were to visit, she’d be horrified. It’s perpetually Christmas here. We haven’t taken down the decorations in months; I’ve decided they will stay put until the season returns. Yes, our tree is still up, covered in dust, and our nativity scene is scattered across the living room. I’ve sworn off holiday decorating for eternity because we clearly can’t manage to clean up after ourselves.
I’ve even told the kids that this year, we are cleaning everything up. They’ll get one tree, and that’s it. My nine-year-old agreed, which tells you how chaotic our situation is. Desperate times call for creative solutions!
The front curtains must stay shut; we can’t let the neighbors witness our Christmas village in July.
We’ve surrendered the front of the house to the kids. They have a designated playroom, a space that used to be our formal dining room. Unfortunately, that plan backfired, and now it’s overflowing with toys that no one is willing to part with, thanks to my partner’s hoarding tendencies. “We might need that someday!” he insists, while the kids cling to all their toys. As a result, the mess has spilled into other rooms, making the living area just as cluttered.
You’d find the usual chaos: cluttered tables, misplaced items, unfinished craft projects, and overflowing laundry baskets. I have a mountain of clothes on top of our dog crate in our bedroom that has been there for a year. And yes, I know my home is a disaster. You’re probably thinking, “Why doesn’t she just clean it up?”
Well, I don’t have the time.
Seriously, I don’t. My partner works full-time, leaving early and returning home exhausted. He helps out when he can, which isn’t much. Meanwhile, I’m juggling the education of our kids (and yes, we do keep their learning organized).
As a work-from-home parent, I rise at 5 a.m. every day, including weekends, to start my work. I pause for parenting and then return to work until bedtime. My house is messy, but I’m focused on building a career and doing what I love. Unfortunately, I can’t afford help.
Between working 12-14 hours a day and parenting, something had to give, and that something was our home. Go ahead and judge me for it; I can take it. I sleep only four to five hours a night. You want me to sacrifice sleep to clean? If there were a hell, I’d send you there. If I have time, I spend it with my kids because they matter most to me.
When December rolls around, the decorations will be appropriate again. We’ll make the kids tidy up their playroom, and I will take an afternoon to fold the laundry and sort it. I have marked a day on the calendar when everything will come down. Our spaces will return to normal, and I’ll implement a “anything left out gets tossed” rule.
So, I have a plan.
Until then, my home remains a mess, and no, you can’t come over. It’s isolating and frustrating. Thankfully, my mom is understanding and looks the other way. I love you, Mom; your support means everything. A few close friends, those who won’t judge, are welcome to visit.
The rest of you? Please stay away. Amazon can leave packages on the porch, and I’ll sneak out the side door to meet the pizza delivery. I simply can’t risk anyone glimpsing our Christmas village.
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Summary
The author candidly shares the realities of living in a messy home while juggling work and parenting. The chaos is acknowledged, and while the house may be cluttered, the focus remains on family and personal goals, with a plan in place for future organization.