The clutter stops here

Epiphany. I love the word. Recently I had one that hit me like a ton of bricks: my house is full of clutter. We've lived in the ranch for nearly four years now. We've been living in a house that has been undergoing non-stop construction and renovation projects during that time. And I had a baby. But all that is over now. Even the baby is running around. No more excuses. This must be dealt with.

The thing that made me realize the state of my pigsty was not looking at it. After all, I've been looking at it with these same eyes for these same four years. Piles here, accumulations of papers there. Paper and folders and boxes and schoolwork along with chapstick and hair bobbles and pens until the entire desktop is drowned. Bottles and bottles of herbs, oils and seasoning - once purposeful on the counter near the stove - overgrown into one giant clutter-covered mess that spans the entire kitchen and includes cream bottles to be returned to the store, dog food, cappucino pods and miscellaneous baby ecoutrement caps. I think I thought I could just be zen and follow those cute chalkboards on Pinterest, you know, the ones that say things like "Sorry for the mess, we were busy making memories" or "In this house, we..." You get the gist. But then...

We went to a dinner party last weekend. There it was. The perfectly tidy house. Perfectly tidy and lovely in every way. And this is not some neurotic mom. She's happy, gentle and very involved and hands-on. She is lovely. Her kids are lovely. And yes, we all do a bit extra when friends are coming over to make the house shine, but you could tell this house runs like a well-oiled machine. Their art room is adorned with tidy works and everything was in it's place from the first baseball to the last doll in the dollhouse. No little piles shoved into corners. I was gobsmacked. I know, I know, stop comparing yourself to others. But it wasn't that I wanted to be her. It's that underneath there is a tidier Steph who is suffocating in this house of clutter.

Queue my bleary eyes in the kitchen the next morning. Seeing the mountain of miscellany that is swallowing my house. I mean to get each stack put up somewhere, but where, and when, and whose stuff is it? So I just kept cleaning it all and leaving it there. And to my horror, when I started fussing that everyone needed to pitch in and tidy up, my husband made me SIT DOWN, and in the course of our oh-so-friendly "discussion" he said he thought I liked it like this. Like THIS! I said, absolutely I do not. I want tidy counters. Order. Things in their places and places for things. I want help from everyone who lives here instead of it all falling to me to run around like a chicken with my head cut off. I feel that the minute a child doesn't need me I go into turbo mode, mitigating chaos and doing a half-ass job that still results in teetering stacks of "THINGS THAT MUST BE DEALT WITH" but never actually are dealt with. And my husband implored me to hire someone to help me with the mess. I'd already hired someone to help me with the mess, though. And that wasn't getting the job done.

Now we have begun what I am calling the Great Cleanup of 2014. It's big, it's scary and overwhelming. We. Have. So. Much. To. Do.