Not My Mother

Since Brad has been gone, I now have had a chance to go up to his room and see what an utter disaster it was.  It’s my fault that things weren’t kept clean and tidy like they should have been, or kept on the boys about keeping their rooms clean.  Let’s face it, none of my house has been as clean and tidy as some believe it should have been.  While sometimes I was caught off guard and at times felt embarrassed by my lack of Suzie home makerness, I have no regrets. 

You see, growing up my mother was somewhat OCD when it came to cleaning and keeping the house in the state of perfection waiting to be put on the front cover of Home and Gardens.  Quite frankly, I have no idea how she did it.  She worked full time outside of the home and kept the house immaculate and pristine.  First of all, I believe keeping a home in that kind of condition is something of an art, an art for which I have no talent.  My mother was known far and wide for her fastidious housekeeping.    There was one drawback to all that cleanliness – I have few memories of just spending time with my mom hanging out, or learning from her how to cook, etc.  She so often would just say, it’s just easier if I do it myself – which translated into “you will just make a mess, so I might as well do it” or “you won’t do it perfectly, so I might as well do it.”    In my younger years and while the boys were still small, I gave it my best shot at trying to be as clean and fastidious as my mom.  No matter how hard I tried, I could never get anything as clean as her. 

When Casey was 5 and Brad was 2 my mom passed away.  That is when the realization hit me that I was   short on memories of special times just “being” with my mom.  After a while I put two and two together and it dawned on me that all I could remember of her was her crazy ass cleaning all the time.   That is when I decided that since I had to work outside the home, the whole cleaning like a crazy woman on the weekends was over.   As the old saying goes, my home was clean enough to be healthy, but dirty enough to be comfortable.  And that has been my mantra ever since.

My reason for all of this is to say that I have no regrets in not living in a well decorated house that was clean enough to eat off the floors.  What I do cherish is all of the things I was able to do with my sons while they were growing up - never sending the message that things were more important than their souls, or their character, or their life skills.  I will never regret having cobwebs, dusty furniture, dirty floors, a bathroom that could pass as a science experiment.  All of those things will eventually get cleaned, and if not, they will rot with dirt.  So, to all of you young mothers out there that are not able to be stay at home moms and have to work outside of the home – those cobwebs and dust will keep.  To all of you who have visited my house and may have gasped at how unkempt it was, please forgive me as I was busy raising my sons.  ~ Love, Momma Richter