"Ben, set the bar low."
Now, you have to understand, Uncle John is the youngest of three siblings, and a dad to four kids of his own. If anyone knows how to instigate, it's him. And he takes the job of giving bad advice to Ben very seriously. After all, what's an uncle for if it's not to get his nephew in a little trouble?
"No, really Ben. You've gotta set the bar low. You think you need to get her flowers and candy on your first Valentine's Day? Forget it! Don't even mention that it's Valentine's Day. You think you need to take her out for a nice birthday dinner? No way. Get her a card if she's lucky. It would be even better if you just ignored her birthday all together. Trust me. Years down the road, you'll see it start to pay off. After all those years of disappointment, she'll be thrilled just to have you remember the day. If you start off too big, you're just setting yourself up for failure."
I remember Ben telling me about this "advice" shortly before our wedding. I rolled my eyes and told Ben, "You'd better not even THINK about following that advice." I knew it was only a joke, but I was still annoyed.
Set the bar low. At the time it sounded like the worst advice I'd ever heard.
Then I had kids.
There's that old cliche "having a baby changes everything." Well, to say that that's true doesn't even do justice to just HOW much EVERYTHING changes. I remember when Ben and I first got married, we moved into a little one bedroom apartment in West Chester. 900 square feet all to ourselves. I used to have Mondays off from work, and would spend the day cleaning our apartment from top to bottom. All it took was an afternoon, and all of the laundry, vacuuming, and organizing was finished. I remember feeling a distinct peacefulness settle over me once everything was clean and in its place.
Fast forward five years, and now I've got two kids ages three and one. My house is a wreck. Everywhere I go I'm tripping on baby dolls, crayons, princess dresses and pacifiers. As soon as I clean up one room, I go to the next and the kids are already in the process of taking out every single toy they own and throwing it haphazardly around the floor. Or, I'll take out a load of clean laundry, and as I start to fold it my one year old will dutifully take every folded piece out of the hamper as I put it in, gleefully flinging it over his shoulder.
I can't win. For the first couple of years, I tried to fight against it. If vacuuming made my daughter cry, I'd hold her on one hip for a half an hour getting the vacuuming done till my arm ached and my back was out of joint. Even if I'd had little to no sleep the night before, I'd drink an extra coffee during nap time so that I could clean the dirty bathrooms. Ben would tell me I was crazy, and that I needed to go easier on myself. But I couldn't. I'd go to play dates where the houses were immaculate, and it looked like no child ever left a toy laying out. I'd work like a slave the night before hosting friends, making sure no trace of our real life was left out by the time the doorbell rang.
And I found myself unsatisfied. Unsatisfied with our house. Unsatisfied with how much Ben pitched in. Wishing I had money for a maid. Wishing the kids would just stop playing with all these toys so my house could look put together!
And then... one day... out of nowhere.... Uncle John's words came back to me.
Set the bar low.
Suddenly, the advice didn't sound so bad. I decided to give it a try. Over the next few weeks and months, I just simply started to clean less. I didn't pick up all of the toys every night before bed. I didn't hang up all of the kids laundry in perfectly matching outfits in the closet. I'll admit, sometimes I went more than two weeks without turning on the vacuum. The other morning I came downstairs and our dinner was still sitting on the dining room table, with half eaten food on the plates. It wasn't my proudest moment... but you know what? I didn't really feel that bad about it.
I realized that all that time spent cleaning and worrying and making my house look "just right" was time and energy wasted, when I could have been spending it actually living my life and enjoying the people that I love best.
Most days, if you drop by my house, it will look like a hurricane came through and tossed every single item that I own onto the floor. There are laundry piles, and sticky floors, and a messy kitchen. But... I'm not yelling at my husband anymore. I'm not yelling at my kids over toy messes anymore. I'm a lot happier.
I've set the bar low. If I have a few minutes and enough energy during nap time, sometimes I'll clean the bathroom. But if I don't... who cares? The world will not come to an end over a dirty bathroom.
Now, understand... I still wish my house were clean. When I get a room totally cleaned up, I still get that wonderful sense of peace that settles on me and makes me feel good deep down in my soul. But... I've set the bar low. If the room stays that way for 30 seconds, that's a good day. If I can actually walk out of the room and back into it, and it is still semi-clean... that's an even better day. But I'm no longer expecting to actually live in a clean house. So when disaster strikes in the form of an overzealous toddler, I shrug my shoulders and join in the fun.
I recently bought a new piece of art for my wall to help remind myself of whats really important. I look at it every single day and read it like a mantra:
Someday my house will be clean. And there will be no toys to trip over. And my floors won't be sticky or muddy. My fridge won't be covered in artwork and fingerprints.
And that's the day that I will miss my kids with all my heart and wish that their childhood hadn't flown by so fast.
So for now, I'm setting the bar low. I'm expecting just a little, but receiving so much more. I wouldn't trade this part of my life for anything.
So thanks, Uncle John. I actually think you had it right. Aside from the whole forgetting my birthday and anniversary thing...
Then I had kids.
There's that old cliche "having a baby changes everything." Well, to say that that's true doesn't even do justice to just HOW much EVERYTHING changes. I remember when Ben and I first got married, we moved into a little one bedroom apartment in West Chester. 900 square feet all to ourselves. I used to have Mondays off from work, and would spend the day cleaning our apartment from top to bottom. All it took was an afternoon, and all of the laundry, vacuuming, and organizing was finished. I remember feeling a distinct peacefulness settle over me once everything was clean and in its place.
Fast forward five years, and now I've got two kids ages three and one. My house is a wreck. Everywhere I go I'm tripping on baby dolls, crayons, princess dresses and pacifiers. As soon as I clean up one room, I go to the next and the kids are already in the process of taking out every single toy they own and throwing it haphazardly around the floor. Or, I'll take out a load of clean laundry, and as I start to fold it my one year old will dutifully take every folded piece out of the hamper as I put it in, gleefully flinging it over his shoulder.
I can't win. For the first couple of years, I tried to fight against it. If vacuuming made my daughter cry, I'd hold her on one hip for a half an hour getting the vacuuming done till my arm ached and my back was out of joint. Even if I'd had little to no sleep the night before, I'd drink an extra coffee during nap time so that I could clean the dirty bathrooms. Ben would tell me I was crazy, and that I needed to go easier on myself. But I couldn't. I'd go to play dates where the houses were immaculate, and it looked like no child ever left a toy laying out. I'd work like a slave the night before hosting friends, making sure no trace of our real life was left out by the time the doorbell rang.
And I found myself unsatisfied. Unsatisfied with our house. Unsatisfied with how much Ben pitched in. Wishing I had money for a maid. Wishing the kids would just stop playing with all these toys so my house could look put together!
And then... one day... out of nowhere.... Uncle John's words came back to me.
Set the bar low.
Suddenly, the advice didn't sound so bad. I decided to give it a try. Over the next few weeks and months, I just simply started to clean less. I didn't pick up all of the toys every night before bed. I didn't hang up all of the kids laundry in perfectly matching outfits in the closet. I'll admit, sometimes I went more than two weeks without turning on the vacuum. The other morning I came downstairs and our dinner was still sitting on the dining room table, with half eaten food on the plates. It wasn't my proudest moment... but you know what? I didn't really feel that bad about it.
I realized that all that time spent cleaning and worrying and making my house look "just right" was time and energy wasted, when I could have been spending it actually living my life and enjoying the people that I love best.
Most days, if you drop by my house, it will look like a hurricane came through and tossed every single item that I own onto the floor. There are laundry piles, and sticky floors, and a messy kitchen. But... I'm not yelling at my husband anymore. I'm not yelling at my kids over toy messes anymore. I'm a lot happier.
I've set the bar low. If I have a few minutes and enough energy during nap time, sometimes I'll clean the bathroom. But if I don't... who cares? The world will not come to an end over a dirty bathroom.
Now, understand... I still wish my house were clean. When I get a room totally cleaned up, I still get that wonderful sense of peace that settles on me and makes me feel good deep down in my soul. But... I've set the bar low. If the room stays that way for 30 seconds, that's a good day. If I can actually walk out of the room and back into it, and it is still semi-clean... that's an even better day. But I'm no longer expecting to actually live in a clean house. So when disaster strikes in the form of an overzealous toddler, I shrug my shoulders and join in the fun.
I recently bought a new piece of art for my wall to help remind myself of whats really important. I look at it every single day and read it like a mantra:
Someday my house will be clean. And there will be no toys to trip over. And my floors won't be sticky or muddy. My fridge won't be covered in artwork and fingerprints.
And that's the day that I will miss my kids with all my heart and wish that their childhood hadn't flown by so fast.
So for now, I'm setting the bar low. I'm expecting just a little, but receiving so much more. I wouldn't trade this part of my life for anything.
So thanks, Uncle John. I actually think you had it right. Aside from the whole forgetting my birthday and anniversary thing...
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