Loving My Dirty Roots

Today please welcome Leigh Hewett, author of the blog Leigh vs Laundry,
which documents her misadventures as a stay-at-home mom. Readers follow along as she juggles housework, motherhood, creativity, and delusions of grandeur. She also writes a weekly column called Moms Talk for Athens Patch, where she talks to moms (and dads) about the triumphs and trials of parenthood. All the while her ignored laundry pile grows by leaps and bounds.

I have always been a writer because the words demand that I set them free from my mind. When I think back to my writer roots, I can’t help but hear the words of my 7th grade creative writing teacher who once told me “Write what you know.” When I find myself feeling blocked, I look around and feel inspired by what I see. Being a stay-at- home mom, my vision often falls on my children, my messy house, and simple moments. Every scene that unfolds in my crazy home may seem ordinary, but they actually create a beautiful and hilarious story-my story.

10 Tips for an Insane Home

I don’t wake with the sun, I wake before the sun. There’s no pure
light spilling into my room. Darkness envelops me as my bossy two-year-
old calls out to me, early in the morning. I step out of bed and stub
my toe on a toy truck.

It would be such a luxury to simply sit. I’ll be honest with you, I
haven’t sat down once since 2004, when my first son was born. I’ve
plopped onto the couch in a stupor a million times, but I don’t recall
actually sitting.

If the state of my bed is the state of my head then my brain is
covered in cookie crumbs.

My laundry room is a den of resentment. The dirty clothes pile laughs
at me while the clean unfolded clothes give me the stink eye from the
corner.

All of my bowls are sticky and feel very superior to me.

The only timer that gets set in my home is the “time out” timer for my
naughty children or the timer that barely keeps me from burning
whatever slop I happen to throw in the oven.

I have no idea where my broom is. I think that I saw my two year old
taking it in the other room to construct an unsound tower.

I eat when I’m hungry and I eat when I’m not hungry. Sometimes I wake
up to realize that I’ve eaten half a tub of icing, over the sink, with
a dirty spoon. True story.

The darkness comes after I tuck the children into bed and my
television beckons my to spend some quality time on the couch.
Mindless chatter fills the room and my mind.

If I were to sleep when I was tired, you would find me face down and
passed out in a pile of mismatched socks,in the middle of the
afternoon, while my children used the lost broom to knock the cookie
jar off the shelf.

Although my life is full of madness and my home is far from mindful, I
wouldn’t trade these years for anything. I could fool myself into
believing that I could achieve Nirvana in an organized home and a tidy
mind, but I treasure our mess. If there are dirty dishes in the sink,
it’s because I’m playing with my children. If there are clothes to be
folded, that means that I am building a fort with blankets in the
living room. There will be plenty of time to sit when they don’t need
Mama any more. I’ll take a house full of love over a clean house, any
day.