Yesterday, on Instagram, I posted a seemingly innocent snap of father and son at play but my failure to look deeper in to the photo and question its appropriateness for public consumption led to me revealing a much revered legend. The legend of the immaculate home. Supposedly unattainable for those with young families but here it was, sticking its tongue out for all to see – look at me, look at me, you thought my existence was solely limited to make-believe but here I am in an actual real-life photo of a real-life home.
Mums and dads of the world, I apologise. It was not my intention to expose this legend. Please let me explain why you saw what you saw.
Firstly and most importantly, I do not clean my own home. The lovely Regina comes round every other Wednesday for a few hours and leaves everything sparklingly spotless. In fact, I’ve not really properly cleaned since my husband and I moved in together ten years ago. We weren’t earning a great deal and all of our savings had been spent on buying our house but we made the decision to treat having a cleaner like any other necessary service – gas, electricity, water. Maybe not as important for our day-to-day survival but it certainly nipped any bickering in the bud regarding whose turn it was to clean the sink or dust the TV.
Secondly, I am not a lover of ‘stuff’. Apart from candles and picture frames, things that don’t have a function are of very little interest to me (apart from Christmas decorations, which I love). Nik-naks, ornaments, objets d’art … all dust collectors as far as I’m concerned and they have no place in my home. This probably stems from my mother being the ultimate collector of all unnecessary items (eBay, you have a lot to answer for) and hoarding them on every bookshelf, window sill, coffee table and inch of free space. I’ve attempted the odd stealth binning mission but she immediately senses that something is amiss. She’s threatened to leave them all to me in her will and will haunt me unless I display each and every one. She’s a cruel woman.
Also, I am very organised by nature and this trait seems to have been genetically transmitted to CK. This is a photo of his bedroom taken this morning. This is the room as it was. I’ve not tidied or put away a single toy, teddy or shoe. There was simply nothing in need of tidying.
Admittedly, he’s not a great toy-lover. He much prefers to be out and about. Even the toys that he does have he keeps tidy and puts them away when he’s finished playing with them. This is the extent of the mess he makes. He’s even been know to pick up the odd spec of dust off the floor and put it in the bin. Future wife, you can thank me with wine.
And finally, if everything else goes wrong, we have the most amazing storage built-in to our hallway that can hide practically everything we’re ashamed to own.
Yes, our home is a little minimalist for some but it feels cosy and warm to us. You’re welcome to pop round but remember … shoes off at the doorway, cups on coasters, and bring a duster.