Blessings Inherent in Having a Dirty House

Never in my life did I think I'd consider a dirty house a blessing. I've come to realize over the last year or so that I'd much rather live and play with my family of kids and animals than have a "showpiece" house. It's been a rather slow conversion...

It started with the granddaughters coming to live with us. This is what I knew: little kids are messy. When my kids were little I had a messy house. But I didn't care. Then they grew up, and I became obsessed with having a "perfect" house. The cleanest, prettiest, best decorated house in all the world. Or at least in my part of the world. All fine and good when I only have myself and my house to care for. Then 3 years ago, the granddaughters came. They were 7 and 8 years old. They were messy. I went NUTS trying to keep that same spotlessly perfect home. I screamed. I pouted. I was a martyr. I made everyone miserable.

Then, two years ago I rescued a puppy. An 8 month old Boston Terrier named Louie. He wasn't exactly potty trained. I had brand new hardwood floors. I had a brand new wool area rug in the living room. I had brand new carpet in the rest of the perfectly spotless house. Hmmmm. New floors and a new puppy that had no idea that he shouldn't potty in the house. More screaming. Not at the dog mind you, he didn't know better. No, I shouted at everyone else because they left it to me to make sure he was taken out to potty. They left it to me to clean up the accidents. And the dog hair!!!! Guess what I learned? Short haired dogs shed. Alot. And those little black hairs stick everywhere!

Clearly I wasn't miserable enough. This last May I rescued another puppy. A five month old Great Pyrenees named Bubba. Now, this dog isn't little, nor is he short haired. When I got him he was a fifty pound, long haired bundle of slobbery puppy joy! And he sheds, boy does he shed! And did I mention he slobbers? Oh, he slobbers. On EVERYTHING and EVERYONE!

Guess what? I couldn't keep up with the mess. So I gave up. I quit. I pouted. And guess what else? No one cared! People didn't come over and whisper about how my lovely showpiece house fell apart around my ears. No one made comment about how messy I was. Nothing bad happened. At all.

And I learned to relax. And I learned I could stop yelling at people. And stop pouting because I'm playing the martyr. I can accept the piles of white fur floating around the house and getting into my knitting. And make jokes about how I have a black furry chaise instead of a beige one. And laugh when I look at the wall and there is dried slobber on it. And now I have time to knit. And I have time to play. And I enjoy my family and my dogs. The messy people. The people I love!