Living on the Edge of Chaos

Before I had children my life seemed much more ordered, everything had its place and every place had its thing, but even then my mum and dad were always commenting on my skirting boards needing a good clean.

Given this I dread to think what opinion they may have of my current abode.  I guess as they are getting older and their eyesight not being as keen perhaps there is hope they might miss some of the underlying problem (fat chance but I’m an eternal optimist me!).

Basically, life with children one way or another gets very, very messy!  Under five’s seem to favour all the activities that generate disarray, Playdoh and Moon Sand is crumbled, then inserted into toys, left to dry out, squashed, squished and rammed into any conceivable place. Yes, places I never knew you could even squeeze things in to.

The emptying of drawers, cupboards and toy boxes help scatter more than a healthy token of chaos.  Toys are trampled underfoot; it is a treacherous route from room to room, trying your best not to end up maimed on the floor.  Toy boxes now emptied make great boats to sit in or turned upside down as an impromptu fish tank.

Stickers now cheerfully cover huge sections of our walls, where other people might proudly display artwork or giant fancy canvases; not us we have a mish-mash of random vehicles, creatures and knights in shining armour.

So, if someone knocks unexpectedly on my door I have three options.  I can embrace the chaos, hide it or try and accept the mess.

I am not sure I can pull off embracing it though.

I can just hear my Mother saying:“Is that another crayon scribble?” Me:“no its actually a form of abstract expressionism, outlining the forces of good over evil bringing into attention the contrasting powers of my toddlers brain.”

Yeah, yeah whatever! you know it’s all total twoddle so why do you let the little vultures destroy your home?

That said, maybe one day a fancy gallery somewhere will give me a big cheque for my boys handy work.

Picture the scene: The said person is happily invited in, when they’re not looking I foot push toys under the sofa, behind cushions and generally make the place look tidier than when they first walked into the room. Let’s face it we’ve all done it. But what do I say if they catch me frantically cleaning up when I think they’re not looking? Oh, I wonder where my keys are? I say.

Only another mother with professional ransackers for children would understand my pain. So, do I reluctantly open the door, shrug my shoulders and sigh dramatically when they see the mess? Or, do I turn into the lady from that 80’s TV advert “Shake and Vac” every time their back’s turned?

Which option would you go for? Either way I think I have to teach my toddlers to become clean up kings, or my chance of winning best dressed house could be doomed forever.

This post was written by guest blogger , proud mummy of two little boys, hopeless cook and lover of cake she also loves sharing her mummy experiences with others.