Motherhood is messy. There’s no other way around it. It’s a literal shit-show to start, and then it’s a full-on disaster every day forward—from the toddler days of dumping all the Tupperware out of the cabinets over and over all day long, to the big kid years of “crafting,” eating snacks everywhere, and letting dirty cups pile up in their rooms. Babies are boogery and messy and smelly. But turns out, so are teenagers. And eight-year-olds. And then, someday, they grow up and leave. But not long after, we have grandkids who come over and fuck shit up all over again.
So yeah, messy.
Some moms miraculously have clean houses. (I’ve never understood this.) It might be because they’re just naturally organized and actually have a place for every single tiny LOL doll and Shopkin. It might be due to anxiety and the need for neatness and order to function. Or it might be because you secretly (or not so secretly) have a housecleaner that makes the beds and flushes the toilets and hangs up the wet towels that are all over the floor.
Those are the only explanations I can come up with.
Now that my kids are older, they are helping more and have new chores this summer that they’ve never had before, so that’s a huge help to Mom. But is my house still a post-apocalyptic shit-show on the regular? Yeah. And I’m pretty sure it always will be.
The Scary Mommy confessional is full of moms with thoughts on their own messy homes—whether they’re actually fine with it but are sick of judgment from others, or whether they’re not fine with it, but can’t get it under control (and also are sick of judgment from others). A lot of moms, however, are just freaking tired of the mess. Tired of the stickiness and poop and pee and piles of toys and never-ending dishes and laundry.
But most of all, moms are tired of feeling invisible and taken for granted as we seem to be the only ones who fucking see it.
Entire house is a disaster, usually hate messes but I have no motivation anymore. I could spend an entire day cleaning and my DS would have it undone in less than an hour. So frustrating! He refuses to help. Wish I could ship him off somewhere for a week
I think if I left my family would miss me... just not because they love me. Because they would be lost without the magical fairy that cleans up their messes, washes their clothes, pays for their life style, and overall makes every responsibility disapear.
I can clean my kitchen spotless and my fucking slob husband will have it destroyed before I get home from work. So tired of not even being able to cook for myself because he’s left a fucking mess everywhere.
I'm sick and tired of cleaning up messes that I didn't make.
So, if anyone else in the house could, maybe, step up and take out the trash or fold a damn towel or wash a fork, that’d be great.
Jesus christ I swear if it's not one of the kids making messes and/or ruining shit, it's one of the pets.
My house is constantly messy but I have 2 little kids and ADD. It is damn near impossible to keep things neat and tidy. FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE
When I signed up to be a parent no one told me about grabbing turds out of the bathtub with your bare hands before they can dissolve and make a bigger mess.
Little kids are gross. Cute, but gross. Pets too.
Annoyed how the kids mess up the house - handprints on everything, the playing that scratches furniture, chipping paint, Wearing the carpet, etc. none of this would happened if I was single.
If I lived alone I’d have no problem cleaning...bc I would never make the mess my family does!
And living in our family’s constant mess makes us fantasize about being alone someday. Sorry-not-sorry, fam.
Love that my kids want to learn to cook. The mess though!
I love my kids, but I don’t want to play tag, army men, Monopoly, or do crafts that take forever and make a mess.
We know we should be more fun and do all the special memory-making but we also know it will just lead to a giant mess for us to clean up after.
I'm doing everything "right": relaxing standards, delegating chores, focusing on just one thing at a time. But the truth is, I live in constant mess no matter how much I clean (Thanks, kids) and it's really getting to me.
When I was a SAHM the house was easy to keep clean and running smooth because no one was home to mess it up. Now everyone is home, it looks like a mild case of hoarders.
It’s noon and these kids can already fuck right off. I want to be a good mom but I have listened to them bicker over lame shit and cleaned up their messes and bitched at them for being messy for 60+ days w no break
I keep hearing everyone talking about how they've been deep cleaning and organizing their homes while they're stuck inside. I literally haven't done shit, my house is still messy and will probably stay that way. Kinda feel bad about it.
And then quarantine hit and we were trapped under the same roof as these people for weeks and months on end. Any chance we had of keeping a clean house was pretty much canceled.
I hate when people tell me "Don't worry about the mess. You are raising kids, not a house." I still have to live here-I can't relax when all I see around me is a never-ending 'To-Do' list. Mom...NOT maid. #cleanupyourownshit
For some of us, a messy house really affects our mental health.
I judge people when their houses are messy (unless they're sick or disabled). I do this because I grew up in a hoard, and it traumatized me.
And we find ourselves judging others due to our warped upbringing.
My friend proudly states she's not Susie Homemaker. She also doesn't work. I'm not saying scrub the floors with a toothbrush, but would a little cleaning and organization be so bad? Her place is a hoarded mess.
Except this person. She’s just judging for the sake of judging, and that’s not cool.
So if you’re living a never-ending cycle of laundry folding and dish washing and toilet scrubbing and you are desperate for your stinky family to just leave for a day or two so the bathrooms can smell like lemon scented cleaner and not stale urine for once, I hear you. Same. Boat.
My family isn’t going anywhere and I do love them to pieces, so I’ll keep pushing laundry piles out of the way that no one seems to notice but me, and I’ll keep putting shoes back in their cubbies that don’t belong to me, and I’ll keep nagging the people I brought into this world to put. away. their. shit. and flush the damn toilet. They will, and then they won’t. And then they will, and then they won’t again. And round and round we’ll all go, forever, on this dirty-ass merry-go-ground we call parenthood.