So, we took our house off the market last week...we were showing it constantly and I'm just too big and focused on, oh, I don't know, other important upcoming events to keep up with the hassle. Yes, we would love an extra room or two, and a yard, and a bit more space, in general. But, considering that I am "The Stress Therapist" in Atlanta, I figured that needed to practice a bit of what I preach.We even showed it after we had taken the listing down...twice. Andrew and I become a little concerned..., what if we actually sold it???
Panic set in...we'd have to find a place to live, close, move, unpack and deliver a new baby all in a couple of months. Yikes. This even seemed too much for Andrew who, if he was any more laid back, would be in a coma.
Opposites attract...I often run things by him to secretly find out if I'm overwhelmed for any good reason. And let's face it, my judgement is about to get even more impaired.
Anyone who has had the experience of "nesting" knows that this regularly stressful stuff is about a million times worse towards the end of your pregnancy. When I was pregnant with Owen, about 3 or 4 days before my due date, I called my mom with what seemed like a perfectly brilliant idea of ripping up the carpet and something about a toothbrush floor cleaning...
I just can't get things cleaned up enough.
Ok, so it's possible that I may be using nesting as an excuse. I tend to have a bit of obsessive cleaning thing going on. I've heard myself say a few times, "a messy space is a messy mind," or "everything has a place and a place for everything." I've just always felt better with a clean house.
The days that we would have an Open House, our house would look perfect. Absolutely Heavenly. Every single room perfect, y'all!!!! I feel bliss just thinking about it...
I knew Andrew was on to me when I would make plans for him and Owen to stay away all day, even longer than the Open House. He'd be putting Owen's coat on, and say, "these are good days for you, aren't they?"
Nothing is more satisfying than to sit and look at my immaculately cleaned, hotel-like home. Alone, that is, with no one to mess up it's perfection. I wouldn't even turn on the TV (because then the doors to the entertainment center would be open!), I would just simply admire my picture perfect home.
Ah, the perfect vacuum marks strewn about the floors (and couch!), the perfectly folded towels, and eloquently placed throws and pillows...straightened countertops, complete with put together puzzles and sorted balls so we could, for some deceiving reason, convince potential buyers that one-year olds are actually tidy little angels, rather than the toy hurricanes and mess makers that they actually are...
Because when Andrew and Owen would come home, inevitably the clutter and disarray would return, leaving me feeling helpless to it's power.
It's really only the smell of Windex that can turn the ecstasy of a perfectly clean home into a pregnancy induced puke-fest.
Andrew obviously thinks that it's a bit bigger than that. He asked me about a week ago, right after I told him that my maid (God bless Nicoleta!), would be coming once a week rather than once every two weeks (yippppeeeeeee!) if I ever planned on "doing something about" my incessant desire to have a perfectly clean home. My answer, "what? You want me to live like a pig now?"
Even I laughed a bit at that...I guess I have a little of the "all or nothing thinking" phenomena going on...
What I haven't been able to ignore is my toddler's affinity for cleaning up messy spaces that must have been learned...I guess...by me....?
You know, just how I learned from my mom that it's wonderful to climb into a made bed. Or, that it really only takes about 3 or 4 minutes to empty the dishwasher. Or, that it's important to clean up one mess before starting another. Or, that thinking about a messy space can ruin a perfectly good Saturday so let's get it done now!
I'm so looking forward to my mom coming a couple of weeks to help me "get ready" for the baby. Oh, the organization projects ahead! Yay, for the marriage of all my new pink things to find a space among the blue.
Plus, the two of us together can really do some serious cleaning damage. Dirt and clutter are no match for us...Every night the stove light glistens on the unblemished countertop promising new, and bright, stress-free tomorrows.
So, am I influencing my little tot? Let me put it this way, if I ask Owen to vacuum the kitchen floor, in about three minutes, I hear the sweet hum of the vacuum (it's electric, so he doesn't have to plug it in, and lightweight, a brilliant Oreck invention for toddler tidying) making my stress fall away like ice cream does for others.
His vocabulary is quite "clean," as well. Despite the word, "frog," sounding much like my husband and I must drop the "F-Bomb" all day, Owen's words and sentences are often a running commentary on out of place items, messiness and cleaning.
At 15 months, Owen could push the pedal on the garbage can to lift the lid and throw things away. If there is even a speck of dust or dirt on the carpet or floor, he picks it up, shows it to me with disgust (bless his heart), proudly says "yuck! Garbage!" and brings it merrily to its demise.
He is quite an early talker, but I have to admit, "soap, messy, wash, clean, dirty, old (as in, "old raisin"), icky, sticky, and napkin, were the first learners and continue to be the forerunners on his lips these days.
The other day, Owen and I were at our bachelor, neighbor's home and he commented how he had really cleaned up and scrubbed his place recently. Certainly, not to my standards, but as I politely nodded, Owen pointed to the dining area and exclaimed, "messy!"
And did I mention my little angel loves to vacuum???
La,
Cheri
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