I'm taking a break from cleaning our house to write about cleaning our house. Also to eat hummus. Where has this stuff been all my life??
Last night I bribed myself with snippets of my fave show, So You Think You Can Dance, as a reward for longer snippets of cleaning. Work 30 minutes, allow myself to watch one dance routine, repeat. That's what it takes sometimes to get me to clean. A bribe...from myself...involving tv time... Am I six? No, I am in fact twenty-six and generally a capable adult. But man, sometimes our house is yuck. As in, you may not want to sit on the sofa because the dust bunnies under it might chomp on your toes and good luck playing pool on our pool table...no really, there's a pool table under all that junk, I promise.
I need to get with the program and I have plans to do just that, but for now I want to comment on the pressure and expectation that all moms/women/couples/families out there are supposed to live in a constantly cutely decorated, uncluttered, perfectly clean, modern, blog-photo-worthy home. LIES I tell you, LIES! I blame Pinterest and DIY blogs.
Real homes do not look like that, people. Real homes with pets and kids and toys and baby food and any type of masculine being in sight...don't look like that. If they do, it's because having a blog-worthy home is their job, like these people.
Real homes, lived in homes, beloved homes are not perfect.
Real homes have dust bunnies.