Confession #2

Holly Homemaker...

is dead. 

She died a very sudden but agonizing death.

For a long time I was very particular about the kind of house I kept.  Obsessive is probably the right word.  I just didn't feel comfortable in my home unless it was clean, organized, and just so.  With the introduction of the medication I lovingly call "my happy pills" the obsessive cleaning slacked off a bit but I still considered my home acceptable by most standards.  I was satisfied.  8 months ago it all stopped.  All cleaning, organizing, and just soing stopped.  Died really.  Vanished as if it never existed.  It's amazing how quickly a previously decent home turns into a pile of crap.  The combination of sudden huge amounts of baby paraphernalia, coupled with sleep deprivation and a giant change in priorities contributed to her demise.  Now, dishes are only done when there isn't a clean dish or fork in the house.  Enter: the toxic wave of dishes that constantly reside in and near what used to be the kitchen sink.  The floor is only recently being swept semi regularly due to the mobilization of Olive (who is now crawling).  The child will, and does, but anything into her mouth.  My bathroom is deplorable.  I long since gave up on laundry.  The hubby attempts to tackle it every weekend, but with only hal-a** results.  All of this (and much more) lead me to confession #2 - My house is messy and I'm not going to clean it. 

There finally I said.  It's nice to be real with myself.  When people come over, and they do way more often now that they know there is a cute baby inside, I apologize profusely.  "I'm so sorry for the mess", "Please excuse the house", "Yes, you may use the bathroom but only at your own risk" etc.  But, the truth is the mess isn't going anywhere.  Until Olive no longer needs as much of my attention.... it is what it is.