Please Don't Clean for Me

Not long ago, I took lunch to a friend who'd just had her fourth baby. I was excited to meet her newest little one. However, after walking in the house, the first thing I noticed wasn't a sweet little baby, it was a vacuum. My friend's family room was spotless and I was baffled. I remember saying something about how tidy her house was, especially for a sleep-deprived mama with a baby under two weeks old. Oh, and three other children. She admitted that she had cleaned up the house in preparation for my visit. Really?

At the time, I had a one-year-old and was pregnant with my son. I wanted to feel flattered that she tried to make us feel so welcome, but instead I felt overwhelmed. My house rarely looked so neat and I only had one child to keep up with. I won't even mention her perfect decor. It simply put my house to shame.

I have no doubt that my friend meant to make me feel welcome. If she'd known how her “perfect” house had really made me feel, I know she would have felt horrible. Of course she couldn't have known because I didn't tell her. Nor did I tell another friend a year later that her perfect house also made me feel a bit overwhelmed and like an inadequate housekeeper. Fortunately for me, her daughter let it slip that they had just tidied up before we came over to visit.

On and on this same scenario has been repeated as I visit the houses of different friends. So, it became reinforced that I too needed to make sure my house was in perfect condition before someone came to visit.

Now, let me be honest here and say that I've always had a tendency to want the house to look good when someone visits. I'll even be honest enough to say that it has very little to do with hospitality and a lot to do with pride. You see, I want you to think I have it all together. I want you to be impressed with my housekeeping skills. Isn't that silly? It is even sad because there more times than I'd like to admit when I was less than kind to my family because they made a mess right before we were expecting company.

My husband once said to me, “it doesn't matter how things appear, it matters how things really are.” Ouch. He's right.

That is why I'm more than happy to join the Messy Ministry. A friend recently came up with this idea and I think it is brilliant. Like her, I am going to do my best to no longer make my house into something it isn't right before a friend comes for a visit. Instead, I'll spend that extra time reading to my children or spending time with my husband. No, I won't let the house become a pit, but I also won't strive to make the house look like no one lives here.

So, if you have a chance to stop by, and I hope you do, I only ask that you notice a few things. The cobwebs by the front door, the cheerios smashed on the floor near the high chair, and the dishes left in the sink are all for you. I like you enough to be real.