- My mudroom has summer and winter items all year round.
- I've tried hiring personal organizers but haven't kept up with their tips.
I've tried to have an Instagram-worthy house where the mudroom showcases backpacks on neat little hooks and my three kids' soccer cleats displayed in their personalized Container Store baskets. But somehow that doesn't quite happen.
Somehow my mudroom is, well, a little muddy. There are flip-flops and even a mermaid-tail floatie lying around — it's been there since last summer, almost a year ago. Spring weather is here, so I figure they can stay put for now.
I'm a home organizer's worst nightmare. I know because I have spent a thousand dollars trying to rehab my slovenly ways with several of them and just keep failing at achieving my goal.
More space didn't equal less mess
A few years ago for Mother's Day, when I moved from a small city apartment to a sprawling house in the suburbs, my mom bought me Marie Kondo's bestseller.
Now that I finally had shelves galore and a butler's pantry, I'd be able to find a home for everything.
I even had a playroom for the kids so that their toys would be kept neatly in their own designated zone.
On her many visits to my house, my mom had witnessed firsthand our family's orphan socks strewn about and crayons cluttering the kitchen table.
I shouldn't have been offended by the gift. I should have read it and taken notes. Instead, I promptly tossed it by the many books stacked on my nightstand and ignored it.
Years later, I still have not read it — nor have I figured out where it magically disappeared to.
As my kids grow, the mess gets bigger
As a mom of three, I kept making excuses to myself. Things will get neater once my kids are older and out of the play-kitchen stage. I won't have to worry about finding Melissa & Doug wooden food in my butler's pantry.
But as the kids got older, their toys started having what felt like a million pieces: Lego kits, arts-and-crafts sets with every conceivable drawing implement.
Then we added two dogs to the mix: one, thankfully, that did not shed, and one whose fur is like tumbleweed during the warmer months. I tried my best to keep up with my war on fur, lugging my central-vac hose around each night to the corners of every room, but the effort was fruitless — in just a few hours there'd be more to clean up.
Now that I'm in my mid-40s, I know I will never have my home featured in House Beautiful. There are more important things than a tidy house.
I don't want my kids to remember me mopping the floor nightly. I want them to remember impromptu dance competitions and binge-watching "Gilmore Girls" together during the pandemic.
There are only so many hours in the day — so for now I'm going to keep prioritizing family fun over fastidiousness.