{thoughts on // home}
I've discovered something about my home.
Having a clean house does not equal having a happy home.
We just got back Friday night from our first Navajo trip of the summer. And you know what we came home to?
Home. It smelled like dog, and the floors were covered in Hancock hair. It was dusty and stuffy and hot. The dishes, although clean, were still stacked in the sink. And to add to that, we threw all out luggage on the living room floor.
But it was home. It was our little place in this world. Our nest in the desert. And it was good to be back to a place where all is familiar.
Don't think that I don't clean my house. My mom taught her girls better than that.
But today when I held my little boy up to the mirror and he rubbed his drooly hand in it, it hit me.
A clean house doesn't make a happy home.
To me, a happy home entails mirrors with handprints. Because that was from some quality smile time with The-baby-in-the-mirror. It includes hair balls that I sweep up every week because I have this crazy red heeled who sheds year round. It includes couch pillows tossed everywhere because me and my man and maybe some guests had a movie night. It's got some dirty dishes all the time because we love to eat and I love to cook. It has baby toys scattered all over the living room because my boy had a great time playing.
Mondays are my favorite days most weeks, because I get to put everything back in it's place from the weekend. But there are some Mondays {especially during the summer} that I don't get to clean my house and I do what I can that week. And some weeks it stays a little messy. But I try my best and you know what?
It's still home. It's always home. And it's a home that's not afraid to be messy, because that's called living.
Tomorrow will probably be like the last few Mondays. I won't get everything done. I've still got wash stacked from yesterday that may not get put away til Tuesday. But we'll still have a home to come back to after Mexico, to sit on the couch and go over the day in, to clean up and go to bed in. And it'll feel comfortable, because we know we're coming back to a place that's ours. Messy maybe, but still ours.
Don't be afraid to let your family mess up everything you just cleaned. Let them live and be happy. Let your home be one that they remember and want to emulate.
Let your home be home.
Having a clean house does not equal having a happy home.
We just got back Friday night from our first Navajo trip of the summer. And you know what we came home to?
Home. It smelled like dog, and the floors were covered in Hancock hair. It was dusty and stuffy and hot. The dishes, although clean, were still stacked in the sink. And to add to that, we threw all out luggage on the living room floor.
But it was home. It was our little place in this world. Our nest in the desert. And it was good to be back to a place where all is familiar.
Don't think that I don't clean my house. My mom taught her girls better than that.
But today when I held my little boy up to the mirror and he rubbed his drooly hand in it, it hit me.
A clean house doesn't make a happy home.
To me, a happy home entails mirrors with handprints. Because that was from some quality smile time with The-baby-in-the-mirror. It includes hair balls that I sweep up every week because I have this crazy red heeled who sheds year round. It includes couch pillows tossed everywhere because me and my man and maybe some guests had a movie night. It's got some dirty dishes all the time because we love to eat and I love to cook. It has baby toys scattered all over the living room because my boy had a great time playing.
Mondays are my favorite days most weeks, because I get to put everything back in it's place from the weekend. But there are some Mondays {especially during the summer} that I don't get to clean my house and I do what I can that week. And some weeks it stays a little messy. But I try my best and you know what?
It's still home. It's always home. And it's a home that's not afraid to be messy, because that's called living.
Tomorrow will probably be like the last few Mondays. I won't get everything done. I've still got wash stacked from yesterday that may not get put away til Tuesday. But we'll still have a home to come back to after Mexico, to sit on the couch and go over the day in, to clean up and go to bed in. And it'll feel comfortable, because we know we're coming back to a place that's ours. Messy maybe, but still ours.
Don't be afraid to let your family mess up everything you just cleaned. Let them live and be happy. Let your home be one that they remember and want to emulate.
Let your home be home.
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