Far From the Tree

I grew up in a house where everything was never out of place. I don't find it to be a fault, but when things were beginning to become untidy, my mom would always become pretty stressed out until it was fixed.

In my first apartment, where I lived alone with just myself and Poptart (my rat terrier) for company I was the same way. I remember when my baby niece and brother and his wife and my parents came for a visit and I was also not impressed with how things were becoming messy.

Now I have a five year old and a two and a half year old. Both boys. As they get older, I find myself caring less and less about the mess. It isn't that I have become lazier. I have just faced the inevitable. There is no match for the two of them. If you are cleaning one room, they are making a different room look twenty times as worse.

I could spend every night after they go to bed restoring perfect order to this place. However, that's no way to spend your life. So, officially I have given up the fight.

My life is a beautiful disaster. I wouldn't have it any other way.