Since posting some pics of areas in my house, and reading some comments and exchanges on similar posts about taming the house-mess, I feel the need to explain a few things about myself. This might get a bit ramble-y.
First of all, I wasn’t always such a tidy person. (There. I said it.)
I grew up in a moderately-sized two-bedroom apartment just outside of the downtown core of Toronto, with my parents and my sister. She and I shared a room. Each of the two bedrooms had large closets – my parents’ was a walk-in. They were always jam-packed with… stuff.
There were four other closets: 2 large ones with double doors for coats and things, one linen closet, and another closet that became the catch-all of the larger items. We stored our vacuum cleaner in that closet. I swear, the reason I loathe vacuuming so hard to this day derives from the absolute sweating, grunting struggle that ensued each time my mother left the house saying, “…and I want this place picked up and vacuumed by the time I return…”
It seemed to take an hour to drag that @%#%!&*%! machine out of that cave of a closet, which was overrun with shopping carts and broken items and bullshit.
In our kitchen, we had a cabinet under the counter that “housed” all the plastic food storage containers. I use this term loosely, because every time anyone opened said door, every square, round, coloured, stained, semi-melted container would come tumbling out at you, like an avalanche of empty margarine and ice cream tubs, and lord help you if you actually required a matching lid to fit. I hated having to fetch anything from under there. HATE, I say.
We had junk drawers with contents that were entirely junk.
The bedroom my sister and I shared constantly had at least a foot of clothes on the floor at all times. (We had more clothes than were probably good for two girls… but I’ll bet that was a round-about way of my mother combating the laundry since sometimes having more clothes = doing laundry less often.)
We didn’t have lots plates of food or dishes around the place – no overflowing waste-paper baskets or dirty messes, but just too much stuff made it’s way into our house, and not enough stuff made it’s way out. Like two three months worth of newspapers it seemed no-ones job to get rid of. Or clothes that we outgrew, that got put into bags for donation, but wouldn’t actually leave our house, so they’d eventually get moved to sit in the bottom of one of the closets, and then eventually fall over… and then we’d have a ginormous mess of stuff at the bottom of a closet again.
Messes spread. With the turn of a blind-eye, the 20 minute clean-up you’ve been putting off becomes a monstrous weekend chore. I know, because my mother used to put us to task sometimes, and I was certain I’d never see my friends or the light of day ever again.
I’m lazy. I hate chores too. That’s the truth.
But here’s the thing: my parents both worked out of the home – in fact, my father worked nights for several years when I was young. And my Jamaican parents were both raised in homes that employed housekeepers… and my mother went to boarding school for most of her life. Factor in cultural (non) expectations of husbands and fathers, and the fact that it was the early 70’s, the bulk of it all fell to my mother. Our house wasn’t a disaster or anything, but there are only so many hours in a day, and once a person is home from work, faced with dinner and two kids… well, organising the Tupperware wouldn’t have been very high on my to-do list either.
The homes of the friend’s I envied always seemed clean and tidy. This played into the all-around desire I had to want to be just like them. High school can be hell. The want need to belong belies everyone. Perception is everything. What I realise now is that many of these friends had mothers who stayed home and took care of things. Or they had regular house cleaners.
Here is the woman who saved ruined saved my life. *shakes fist at sky* Damn you, Martha!!
What I mean to say is housekeeping is a learned skill, yo – don’t kid yourself. And understanding what’s really important to you, in terms of what you’ll accept or not accept (in ALL things) will dictate how you live. It’s all about choices and payoffs.
I don’t like clutter. At all. I try to rid myself of it whenever possible because like I said before, messes spread. I understand that by living with a certain bag of crap in a corner can quickly turn to two bags of mess, and then it magically breeds like rabbits to four bags of crap, then eight, then… okay look, I’m no mathematician, but before you know it, you have an EPIC mess on your hands, and which then becomes a huge chore which you know will require a whole weekend to take care of, which naturally gets pushed aside for weeks, and then months… and then just like that *snaps* your family becomes THE subject on the latest episode of Hoarders…
Okay, that’s extreme, but I digress.
For me, I just want to please myself as much as possible, when it comes to my house. I spend most of my time in it, and I want it to be comfortable to me, and for my family. Fortunately, my husband is like-minded, so not only is he appreciative (and he tells me often!) but he also helps with just about everything, and he does an awesome job at the stuff he does, like the vacuuming. And windows. (He’s way more awesome at these things than I am, but that’s because he’s crazy. Heh.)
It’s all in the details. I like all the hangers to be the same (thank you, Ikea!) because it helps make a closet look instantly tidier. I like chrome that shines – I care less about floors that do. I like white towels because they make our one-and-only bathroom appear clean, even if it’s not. I can deal with dishes in the sink, and dust-bunnies in corners. I don’t love looking at those messy bits, but I know those small things can be taken care of in a matter of minutes. I just need some sanity on my counter surfaces and inside my closets.
We have some catch-all places in our house, and though they bug me (some times more than other times – this depends on how stressed I’m feeling) I force myself to live with them. It’s normal to have some junky spots. It just can’t be the whole house.
Control really is just an illusion you know… but I like the illusion of a tidy house. I make small efforts and implemented small ways to keep my stuff in order so it’s not much work to manage on a daily basis. One person’s “anal” is another person’s “normal.” If the couch you sit on is while watching TV is strewn with the days clothing, but you don’t care about it… then why be different? If there are details that don’t matter to you, then there’s no reason to make changes, right? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Or something like that.
There’s more to what lead me down t
he road to Tidyville… that was around the time I met my husband. Since then, I’ve really let my freak flag fly…
he road to Tidyville… that was around the time I met my husband. Since then, I’ve really let my freak flag fly…
(Part II to come.)
Ikea is a godsend. Organizing is cathartic to me for some reason, which makes me a true-blue Virgo but I digress. It does give you a sense of control when you are able to control your physical environment. Great post, had fun reading it. 🙂
Elena, that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard – thank you so much!! You have no idea how much that lifts me up. Really. You’re full of The Awesome. 🙂
I’d LOVE to be your clutter-buster, Erin… it’s my favourite thing to do, I swear. If I could get my broom out of the shop, I’d fly over this Saturday… (but one day, Sugar – I promise!!)
Come on girl! Erma Bombeck meets David Sedaris is what comes to mind when I read your stuff. Entertaining, interesting and relatable. I’m so glad I found your blog. It helps me to know that I’m not the only one mucking through the happy horror that is motherhood.
Love this. I used to have a Martha satire calendar (back when I was Martha – pre DH & DC). It was Martha in S & M gear…..and more, but tasteful,you know. Snicker (to quote you).
My house growing up was fine, I remember it being reasonably tidy and clean. It’s just my current house that isn’t. You know, I should ask my mom how she felt about our house…..how our memories are similar or different.
Ah the clutter, the clutter, hard to ignore. Sigh. Someday my house fairy will come.
Great post. Are you coming this Saturday? Missed you last weekend.
Christine – Dettol – I’d completely forgotten about that product! Wow. Not I can smell it too… that’s awesome.
Your mum sounds like a busy woman – I remember my mum scrubbing floors too, and doing these huge cleaning jobs – there just aren’t enough hours in a day to do everything when you work outside the home and have kids, right? That’s how people who can afford them hire cleaners to help. (We couldn’t afford such help…)
We have plenty of junk drawers too – as long as they’re contained – must. tame. spreading!
It’s funny how that is, huh Nancy? How we repeat some things and absolutely NOT repeat in other ways? Hmmm…
Thanks for the great post Tracey!
My mom was the daughter of a diplomat raised in the South Paicific (half european- half polynesian) and even though she started kindergarten in English, she had a constant inferiority complex about her speech, written Enlgish, cooking and manners. She HATED cooking- not from any place of superiority, but I think because she was always self-conscious about it. She also always carried around a pocket dictionary to consult, just in case anyone used a word she didn’t know. My mom always claimed that there was a well-established OCD strain on her side of the family. Anyways, she grew up with house-girls as well- and my memories of her when I was a child include a large amount of stress about how clean our house was… I’m sure because, as a full-time nurse, she coudn’t replicate the efforts of a full-time staff.
I hope you are figuring things out!
I’m pretty sure I’d have much less to complain about from a tidy-house standpoint if I shut the laptop and tidied said house.
Nancy – I am not repeating. My mother kept an immaculate house. Many of my memories are of my mum on her hands and knees telling me I missed breakfast and the kitchen was closed now that she was doing floors. I can still smell the Dettol!!
And her sister – my aunt was even worse!
We had a “junk drawer” in the kitchen which was the catch-all. Tape, string, dice, matches, stapler, thumb tacks, measuring tape…you name it, it was in there.
My cousins begged their mom to let them have a junk drawer. She refused saying that “There is no way you will find a junk drawer in THIS house!”
My whole house is a junk drawer.
And thank you for reminding me that house keeping is a learned skill. I will shut the laptop and work on it!!
Can’t wait to read part 2!
the background to all of us is so interesting – it makes us repeat and never repeat. Thanks for sharing!
WOW! Thanks, Elena!! Never in my life… whoa. I might just have to start writing that book now… and your encouragement astounds me, woman. Thank you!!
Thanks so kindly, Sarah Louise! What a lovely thing to say… 🙂
Fascinating as usual. If you wrote a book I would pay good money to read it.
Another lovely blog. You write so well and make everyday things interesting. I can just imagine it all.