Mom Exhibit: I bought a house!

My hiatus has an excuse. But, that's all it is. In reality, I was starting to feel owned by blogging.

But for real, I bought a house. I saw my dream house on the internet and put an offer on it the next day. I wasn't looking to buy because renting really is the safest bet 100% of the time.

So here I am in my new home. It's pretty and pretty awesome. When I moved in, I thought, "I'll always keep this kitchen clean! It's so big!"

I'll let you guess how long that lasted.

Mom on strike goes to therapy

I went on strike two months ago. I was on strike against the Homemaking Union. We have no rights, no freedoms, no pay, no one standing up for us making sure our work isn’t ruined.

I, like many of you, was so exhausted from constantly redoing housework that I tried so hard to do that was constantly being undone. It’s seriously like chasing your tail. And since I’m an intelligent woman, I finally admitted I wasn’t ever going to catch it. So I said, “Screw it.”

Buried alive

Today, the walls around me are caving in. I want to cry. My chest is tight.

I try so hard to be kind, thoughtful, forgiving, compassionate and mostly, nonjudgmental. I really am a good person with a very open heart.

It crushes me, though, when someone sees my messy, chaotic home. It feels like my home is seen as a direct reflection of my character; that when it's filthy, it must mean I'm a slob; that when it's in shambles, it means I'm not caring for my kids.

Mom Exhibit: Another mom fights the dust

I'm not alone! My girl, Deb, sent me this email the other night and I just about peed my pants. Let's give a shout-out to our newest Mom Exhibit contributor. I know she'll feel welcome here!

My name is Deborah — and I am the mother of a messy house.

For 6 years, my family and I lived in a fabulous neighborhood. I was surrounded by amazing people, and yet...I can count on my left hand the number of people I ever invited INto my house. And I know of only ONE person whom I ever felt 100% at ease with just "dropping" by at any time.

Quit while you're ahead...or behind

Why, why, why does my house look and smell like the county dump every single Monday morning? I'll tell ya why—I don't have time to clean on the weekend.

So, imagine how good I felt about myself as I started cleaning the kitchen this morning! While I'm at it, the boy makes a stinky in his diaper. I get that cleaned up. Back to the dishes. He screams at me for food, "Maaaaaahhhh!" I quiet him with a squeezable applesauce and a sippee cup of milk. Back to the dishes. He climbs in the dishwasher and flings knives, cups and bowls onto the floor. I put up the baby gate. Back to the dishes. He douses the carpet with milk. Bahhh! I clean it up and get back to the dishes. He grabs the bag of veggie chips off the table and dumps them all over the floor. The girl helps pick them up. Back to the dishes. After getting all of that under control, I'm feeling confident and happy. I walk in the living room...

Oh brother. The kitchen's not done, but whatever. I'm done.

You invigorate me: Mom Exhibit

See this? Ahhh. Clean and peaceful...until the kids wake up.

Last week, I spent 3 whole days cleaning the house. That's all I did—bathrooms, vacuuming, mopping, dusting, deep-cleaning the stove, you name it. And you know why?

Because people were coming to visit, of course.

The important thing is that I did it and I am proud of myself. I've been trying so hard to keep it up, though it seems like I'm going to lose pretty soon. I'm just glad I captured it in a photo, so I can remember this glorious, remarkable moment in my life.

Clean house, you invigorate me and I love you. "Hug, hug, kiss, kiss, hug, hug, big kiss, little hug, kiss, kiss, little kiss." -Nacho Libre

My success is your failure

So...the Mom Exhibit. That was pretty fun, huh, to see another mom's unedited house?

Well, here's the problem. While I was totally willing to share images of the messes, I was too afraid to share successes because I didn't want to make anyone feel bad.

I got going and had moments where I was succeeding, when I stayed on top of the dishes for 24 hours, when I completely cleaned my bedroom (and it has stayed clean), when I vacuumed 2 weeks in a row, when I had a warm dinner on the table each night for an entire week.

I was judged by my mess

This morning, I woke up with a spark. As I washed the dishes, my mind raced, feeding the beast, growing it until I thought I would burst.

Recently, I was excluded from something. The part that hurt the most was that I was blind-sided. No one said a word to me. I was just cut out. I whole-heartedly believe it was because of my blog, because maybe I appear to have too much on my plate, like maybe more time at home would help me get my affairs in order. I don't know, really. I was going to ask. But, then I realized it would be in vain. #1. I didn't want anyone to think I was whining. #2. Do you really think anyone would honestly tell me the truth? No way.

So, to spare myself some respect, I sucked it up and said, I won't let it get me down.

I knew divulging so much about myself on this blog was risky. I knew there would be some consequences. I figured there'd be a few hoity-toity people that would think less of me.

I just didn't think it would be these people. I'm bummed that they didn't get what I'm trying to do here.

So, what am I doing here?

There is a mom culture in our society with silently-defined expectations. This culture measures our self-worth by the tidiness of our playrooms, shine on our kids' cheeks, promptness of our families to events, the capacity of our memories.

It's wrong. It's women being hard on themselves and hard on each other. It needs to stop.

The worth of a mom should be measured by her love for her kids. It's invisible to the eye and is manifested differently in every family. For some women, it means they have to work to earn enough money for their kids to live in a safe neighborhood. For others, it means they get up extra early in the morning to braid their daughter's hair.

I just want moms to compare themselves to themselves, not the chick down the street. You know your best. You know what you're capable of. You know how much you love your kids. And you, only you know what that looks like.

So, to anyone who may doubt my abilities or may think I have too much on my plate, I'm sorry, but you're wrong. Please don't judge me by my mess and my Zoloft prescription. I used them to prove that, by my own definition, I do have it all together and this is what that looks like for me.

Please, I beg you, don't fall victim to the naïve, ignorant standards of mom culture.

Fancy footwork: Mom Exhibit

I'm inviting BYU's football team to come workout in my house. It's guaranteed to keep 'em on their toes. It's impossible to walk in a straight line in any direction. If you don't keep your eyes down, you're sure to step on land mines (little plastic toys strewn across the floor).

Christmas came and went like a storm of tornadoes. And here's the aftermath.

Sorry—blurry pic.

Holiday meltdown: Mom Exhibit

Girl. Let me tell you.

I. am. pooped.

I've got one of those haven't-slept-well-in-nights headaches and my shoulders are so heavy. For the past 2 days, I've wanted to post about a million different things.

But, then I remember the whites that have been soaking in the washer for 2 days when it was only supposed to be over night, the dishwasher that has sat 1/2 full and the dirty ones in the sink I could just throw in real quick to get it started, the vacuum I need to pick up from the repair shop (30 min away) so I can finally clear the carpet of the 3-week-old food chunks, the gifts I still need to make for Christmas, the wrapping (ooohhh the wrapping—worst part, right?), the car that we still can't drive because it needs to go to the shop (it's been sitting in the driveway for close to 3 months), the realization that the kids have no clean winter clothes as of 4 days ago.

Tis the season.

It's too much to think about. So, sorry—it felt like too much for me to take a pic of the house, hook up the camera to the computer, download pics, edit lighting in Photoshop, save the image and upload to blogger. Just look back at other Mom Exhibit posts. Nothing's changed.

Take this, Charlie Brown: Mom Exhibit

Oh, Christmas tree...

You're looking pretty pathetic these days...pretty sparse on the bottom half. The girl's constantly rearranging and the boy whacks at ya with drum sticks. Your surroundings don't help.

What matters most, though, is that you're loved. Mostly loved. Because the girl "likes everything except for one thing: the bow on top." "Because I hate bows," she says.

So moms, don't stress or apologize to visitors. We understand. You tried to make it look nice. There's a time and season for everything. And this season isn't the season for Martha Stewart-esque decor.

Link up below and show me your "kid-proof" tree. Click the link below, "Click here to enter."

Down under: Mom Exhibit

Deep down under the dining table, lying in the dark abyss of the ocean floor, live undiscovered, unclassified beings. Some are quickly ingested by the local carpet creatures. Others lurk, waiting to embed bare feet with their sharp, stinging edges.

Yes, I do shower: Mom Exhibit

I do get dressed, you know...occasionally. I'm not aaaalways in my pajamas. Most days I do throw on jeans and a tee. It's just that the last two weeks, I've been sick. And you know that means pajamas, for sure. Thank goodness I'm on the mend. As for my husband and kids?

Put down your toilet wands: Mom Exhibit

I've had a breakthrough.

Follow me. The other day, my girl, Kim, gave a great tip. Set a timer for 10-15 minutes, clean with the kids as fast as you can and then be done for the day. And then, in a moment of silence and pondering, the heavens opened and a ray of light shone down upon my face, illuminating the grease in my hair from several days of not showering.

Your Exhibit: Mom Exhibit

Today's the day, girls. The time has come for you to join me in the momming revolution, Mom Exhibit. I want to see PROOF that I'm not just a disgusting slob who can't keep it together.

Be brave and get out your cameras, flip phones, iPhones, whatever takes a picture. Document some part of your unedited mess. Post about it on your blog and add yourself to the Mom Exhibit Blog Hop below. Spread the word to encourage others.

Together, we will stick it to the man, proving that momming is actually very, very different from the 1950's portrayal of Mrs. June Cleaver. Let's lower our expectations for ourselves to realistic levels, helping us to feel accomplished and successful at the end of each day!

Instructions:

1. Take some photos and publish a post about them on your blog.
2. Please include one of my buttons in your post so it's clear where the Mom Exhibit originated. Just copy & paste the code from under the button (below) into your post.
3. Come back here & click the link below titled, "Click here to enter." The Linky will be open until Dec 13.
4. Since it's a Blog Hop, you'll want to put the Linky list on your blog, too, so others can add their posts on your blog. To do that, after you add yourself to the Linky list, click the link at the bottom of this post titled, "Get the code here..." Just add it to the bottom of your published post and there ya go!

My buttons:

<a href="http://cinderelladuty.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m631/cinderelladuty/momexhibitnowopen.png" alt="CinderellaDuty" width="150" height="150" /></a>

<a href="http://cinderelladuty.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m631/

Image source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/June_Cleaver

Clean House In 1 Hour: Mom Exhibit

"Clean your ENTIRE house in 1 hour" was the claim of an article on Yahoo last week. My eyes lit up as I clicked on the link, hoping for a breakthrough. The article states that if you spend 9-15 minutes in each room, working your way down and out, you'll be done in 1 measly hour.

I'm going to re-name this article, "Clean Your Childless Loft In Less Than One Hour."

And just to prove my point, I tried it. Here's how it went down.

I started in the catch-all of the house, my bedroom. I hope this makes you feel reeeeeally good about yourself. Otherwise, I've published these humiliating photos in vain.

Don't go upstairs! Mom Exhibit

I love having friends in my home, especially if I know you're coming. I'll usually tidy the living room a bit and make sure there's nothing gross in the visible areas, like a stinky diaper.

However, there are no words to describe the nauseated feeling I get when you have to run upstairs "real quick" to grab your child. This little commercial clip portrays it perfectly:

Mom Exhibit: Day 1

Can I just say I'm really, really terrified to publish this? I am afraid that you'll judge me. I'm scared that this project won't go over the way I intended.

With that said, here's why I'm divulging the mess in which I live.