My oldest two kids are 19 months apart.
I’m not even a little bit ashamed to tell you that there were long stretches in their early childhood where my house wasn’t what you’d call immaculate.
Many days the word “tidy” would even have been a stretch.
I’m okay with it.
Snot and spit and schmat and spaghetti os. They all happened.
All over everything when I wasn’t looking.
During that time, I read somewhere that moms of toddlers should never, ever, ever look too closely at their walls.
This was excellent advice.
Because once you looked, you’d never be able to stop scrubbing.
Better to focus on survival and let the walls be.
We lived by that strategy for a couple of years until both of my babies acquired the dexterity to utilize tissues, at least most of the time.
Then when Coronavirus confined us all in close quarters, with little distraction for the kiddos and full time jobs for the parents – we let tidy slip again.
Still not ashamed.
Toys and toenails and tator tots and trinkets. They happened.
I let them.
We rode out rockiness while we adjusted to a new normal.
No harm. No foul.
Until I realized that living in chaos was taking more of a mental toll than I originally thought.
So I ignored the advice from toddler time and took a closer look.
Over the course of several days, I scrubbed and sorted and shined things up all around my home.
You might have thought I’d be annoyed or resentful of all that work – especially since not much of it stayed done for very long.
Toys trickled back out.
Dishes were left in the sink.
But something funny happened.
As I got close to my home and cleaned it up, I started having ideas about small improvements I could make. The brainstorming felt doable and fun.
Even I was surprised.
I traced my change of heart back to a decision I’d made the week before to consciously view cleaning as self-care.
I committed to stop viewing chores as a burden no one else would share and start thinking of them as gifts I was giving to the me of tomorrow.
I wanted her to wake up to a clean kitchen and an uncluttered desk.
I decided, on purpose, to love me enough to do that for me.
When I knew I was doing the work because I loved the me I was going to be tomorrow, my brain started offering me special little touches that I could easily add in – like recovering a ripped up chair or finally hanging that picture.
When I viewed those jobs as gifts to me – I suddenly wanted to do what I’d been putting off before.
And… applicable to your marriage.
When you think of the work you do to sustain your marriage as a chore to be shouldered by you cuz he ain’t gonna do it, it’s not surprising when you’re willing to put all that off.
But what if working on your marriage is a gift to the you of tomorrow, the you of next year and the you that will be celebrating a teary-eyed, mushy gooshy golden anniversary with the guy you really, truly love?
In the Defying Gravity group coaching program, we’ll team up to polish and shine and disinfect your relationship until it’s a place that you really, truly want to live.
I made it happen for my house and we can make it happen for your marriage.
Click on the video below RIGHT NOW now if you’re in – before you notice a random spot to scrub off on your wall.
You deserve this gift and I’m ready to help you get it. I hope you’ll let me.