Confessions of a Type-A Mom

I know that I am not perfect and my life is not perfect. I can admit that true perfection *probably* doesn't even exist. However, these facts do not deter me from waking up every morning with the same motivation - to do everything perfectly the first time.


I don't think I was always like this. I definitely remember having moments (read: years) of the "I don't give a crap" kind of mentality. What I've found though, is that once you become a parent (and a spouse) your ride on the crazy train begins and the first stop is the one where you decide how you're going to maintain your sanity for the rest of your life.


My sanity stops and starts with cleanliness. If I feel that my house is dirty I also feel like I'm going insane. On the flip side, a clean house pretty much guarantees a sane mommy and wife. I completely see how this could also be my absolute freefall into the world of crazy-making. After all, what kind of person would let their sanity hinge on the cleanliness factor of their house? Especially if their house happens to be shared with 1) a six year old boy (Connor) 2) a husband (Dylan) that couldn't be more like Pigpen if he tried, and 3) a 14 pound cat (Jackson) that likes to shoot snot rockets on my kitchen floor most hours of any given day (if he's not doing that, then it's a pretty good bet he is spitting food on the floor or licking his nether-regions while reclining on my couch propped up by one of my $80 pillows from Pottery Barn).


Mornings are my favorite cleaning time. I get to clean the kitchen after breakfast (I think I could make my own bowl of cereal from the crumbs left on the counter some mornings), mop up all the half-asleep "misses" in my son's bathroom from the night before, and follow the exact route my husband took that morning with his cup of coffee. This route has to be done with complete due diligence. Otherwise my carpets will be stained and my walls will have splatter patterns from waist-high to floor. Then comes my favorite piece of the morning clean - the "where the hell did my husband leave his coffee cup?" part. I have found coffee cups on the railing of the loft, left on bookcases (both upstairs and downstairs), window ledges, and my personal favorite, the toilet.

My next favorite cleaning moment of the day is when I go to take a shower. No, not because I have fantastic products to use (which I do), but because I get to spend the first five minutes of the shower rinsing down the drain what can only be described as the remnants of a drunken bar brawl between Chewbacca and my husband. I love it, I really do. Sometimes I play a game that's called "And Where Did This Hair Come From"?

I'll admit that I am the one to put pressure on myself to have a clean house. No one else really seems to care. I've been tempted before to just not do anything and see how long it takes for Dylan and Connor to notice that something is going on. Obviously I've never attempted this experiment because I would be certifiably bonkers after 48 hours and that would ruin the outcome of the experiment - they would notice something was up only after I was carted away in a straightjacket, not because there were crumbs on the kitchen floor.