If you were to walk into my house today, your first impression would likely be of a small, tidy, relatively uncluttered, fairly clean home.
But if you look more closely, you’d begin to see the evidence that there is way more to be done than I am capable of doing on my own. More to be dealt with than can be fit into two days on the weekend. Days which are already full of birthday parties, grocery shopping, church activities and soccer. (Ok, so soccer is over. I’m still going to use it as an excuse.)
Ballpoint pen on the couch. Permanent marker on the kitchen table. Crayon on the wall(s). Bed-side lamp that doesn’t work (and no, it’s not the bulb. I tried that already.) Vanity light in the bathroom that has part of a broken light bulb stuck inside it. Mildewy shower curtain liner. Bedsheets that are sort of a gray-white-light blue shade because I washed them with a blue sweatshirt in hot water, and that I just haven’t gotten around to bleaching yet. Dining room rug with permanent stains. 12-year-old Accord with half a front bumper. (It’s the top half, though, so depending on the angle, you don’t necessarily notice it.)
These are things I will get to someday. Things that don’t really bother me on a daily basis. (Actually, things I don’t even see on a daily basis.)
But they are Things I See when company is about to arrive, which it is on Thursday. (Thankfully, it’s my sister and brother-in-law, who still love me in spite of my imperfect house. And who will also actually address some of these things while they’re there. Not the ballpoint pen on the couch, though. Or the bumper. Those are beyond hope.)
Someday when my kids are older I will have clean walls and unblemished furniture. Kitchen chairs free of yogurt.
But right now our house is frayed around the edges. Comfy. Lived in. A bit messy. Just like the rest of my life.