I was raised in immaculate surroundings. Spotless floors, dustless fans, sparkling windows… even the inside of the damn refrigerator sparkled. Everything had its place. Everything was wonderfully organized. Everything was perfect- always. And the older I get, the less I understand how my mother did it. Seriously- it blows my mind.
My parents had “traditional roles” until I was in high school, then my mom went back to work. My dad took care of the yard, the cars, repairs around the house, etc; and my mom handled the house and the kids. Both roles were maintained so flawlessly that it looked to be the work of magic. And even when she went back to work, the housework didn’t falter an inch. Not one fucking speck of dirt was to be found. And keep in mind, my folks were raising 2 boys and a girl who was messier than the 2 boys put together. I pig-penned all over my mother’s beautifully kept house- but you’d never know it to look at it. But not only did she keep things so clean that you could easily eat out of the toilet bowl without worry, but she was on point when it came to holiday cards, birthday cards, thank you cards, all other social pleasantries, AND making sure that we kids had our after-school time appropriately filled with sports, music lessons, scouts, and any other fly-by-night interests that we were currently embracing. 3 solid healthy meals a day, a spotless house even with 3 kids dead set on messing it up, every social grace in place, running 3 little arguing brats all around town to soccer, piano, dance and ice skating, and while working. Again, I have no idea how she did it.
Kids have a tendency to be self-absorbed assholes. It’s part of their job requirement. Growing up, I never even noticed how perfect everything was. But now that I’m an adult with my lone child and house that’s much smaller than my parents- I am slapped in the face by just how much my folks were able to accomplish in a day… and it’s making me wonder if my parents were unnatural superheroes, if the times have changed so much that my generation of parents are just much less organized/efficient, or if there are truly less hours in the day. Or maybe I’m just a totally crappy parent.
I gave up on “social pleasantries” when Sully was 2. Thank you cards, birthday cards, holiday cards, etc… I just stopped trying to keep up. Hell- the invitation to me and Brad’s wedding was sent out via email if that gives you some idea of just how far removed I am from my mother’s wonderful social graces. My house is always clean- but I can’t really get on top of it. I vacuum twice a week, do dishes every night, scrub the bathrooms every weekend, everyone in my house does their own laundry, I try to enforce everyone picking up after themselves- but at the end of the day I want to lay on my floor and scream at the top of my lungs because there’s still clutter and dust and kid-stuff and Brad-stuff EVERYWHERE!!!!! Running from work to Sully’s school to the grocery store to Sully’s karate to home for homework to making dinner to doing more work from home and trying to get to bed before 2am leads me to ulcers and sleepwalking. How did my parents do it with 3 kids?! And so effortlessly?!?! It truly blows my mind.
Tonight I channeled my mother. I borrowed a crazy high-tech rug cleaner from a neighbor and tackled our area rugs. I scrubbed out the refrigerator, and am moving onto my office (which looks like a tornado hit it). There’s such a wonderful calm that I feel when I visit my parents house- and I want some of that in my house. I know that the majority of that calm comes from the fact that my parent’s house will forever be “home”… but it also comes from the fact that when I’m there, I’m not surrounded with chaos. The beautiful organized calm that my parents house radiates does wonders for my OCD, and I can actually relax when I’m there.
Is it pathetic for a 34-year-old married mother to want to move back home and live with her parents? It probably is. Good thing I abandoned my shame years ago.

Thanks, Mom.

















