Perfection: don't dis the stains . . .

Having not one, but TWO houses for sale at the same time whilst being major preggers and parenting a 2 year old whirling dervish was no cake walk.  Buyers do not give you the luxury of a day or even an hour to get your schtuff together, picked up and perfect for showing.  Most of the time, the agent calls to arrange the showing while circling the block.  I learned very quickly to 1:  NEVER refuse a showing and that 2:  PERFECTION is the only option to present to the potential buyer.  It's asking a lot for a buyer to envision your home as their perfect abode when they have to step over Strawberry Shortcake panties that were left on the bathroom floor (not mine, btw).  One the very first showing, my phone died, the agent left me a voice mail and I didn't have notice until 10 minutes before the showing.  Let me tell you how funky your car gets when you throw in a garbage bag full of your stinky garbage, a laundry basket full of dirty dishes and 2 hampers of dirty laundry.

I had to come up with a strategy or go insane so my answer was to purge, purge, purge and become the clutter Nazi.  Not a speck of anything on the counter, not a dish in the sink and not a wrinkle in any bed before I left the house in the morning.  It was like the military.  Only with better food . . .

My point is, in order to be someone else's dream home, we removed our personal momentos, painted the walls, scrubbed the carpets and erased spills, dirt and any imperfections and, guess what, it WORKED!  We sold one house, moved in to the other 3 weeks before Jake was born, then sold the 2nd house 4 weeks after Mr. Turkey pants arrived . . . and moved again.  (Sidebar . . . 1 - thank you to EVERYONE who has ever helped us move and 2 - We are NEVER, EVER moving again.  You will have to pry my old pruney butt out of that master closet to get me in to the old peep's home).

I digress.  What I learned was a love of having less "stuff" to clean up, organize, put away, step over, step on, et cetera.  It was refreshing to come home to clean counters, clean work and living spaces - like pulling up the window shades and letting light in to your brain.  That uncluttered feeling was fresh and uncomplicated - perfect.

Maintaining perfect, however, is a messy business.  Messy, stressful and possibly involves yelling and threatening as MY idea of perfection cannot be mandated to the additional mess creating members of the family.  Yeah, I said it.  Husband, Daughter and the Snake make messes.  They drop stuff on the carpet, eat food in inappropriate places (MY side of the bed - arrrgggg), leave socks and underwear everywhere and do NOT place schtuff in the appropriate, designated "schtuff" areas.  I am exempt from the "mess maker" category because yes, I make them but mostly, I clean them up, launder the clothing and organize and purge the schtuff that cannot find its way back home to its habitat.  I am also the only one of us who has suffered a puncture wound from stepping on a toy smurf!

Then, a funny thing happened.  It wasn't actually funny.  Something that transformed me, my husband . . . us.  We were going to have another little human and that news rocked our world.  It was scary and overwhelming but knowing the crazy love and joy that monkeys 1 and 2 have brought to us, we were ready to make room for funky monkey number 3.   We started making plans, talking about him/her, prepping siblings for big brother and bigger sister status.  But then, one day, there was no more monkey.  Just like that - no heartbeat.  A very sad end to barely even a beginning.  We grieved.  Hard.  Sadness like lead weights.

But it was hard to sink into the dark end of that pool when you still have two happy and joyful sunshines that depend on you, lift you up and keep you in the moment.  Thank God for them.  Grief, however, is transforming and each day after was a little different.  We held them tighter, rocked a little longer.  Read one more book and stayed up a little later.  Cherishing the moments just doesn't seem like an accurate description for how tightly we closed our arms around each other.  Things that seemed important just really didn't make the list anymore.  Perfection or mess, it just didn't matter in the big picture anymore.

Popcorn in bed . . . why not if it means we can snuggle a little closer.  Bath tub with soapy bubbles over flowing . . . they'll only take baths together for a few short years.  Handprints decorating the glass window . . . leave 'em a little longer so I can remember how tiny they still are.  Lipstick stain on the carpet . . . not scrubbing it out right away because the story about how the little person made it makes me laugh so hard.  Milk splatters on the ottoman . . . that was a great night of tickling and tackling the kids.  Cheerios and puffs in the crevices of my car . . . reminders of how tiny fingers are still learning to make it to tiny mouths.  All in all, structure, order and schedules can now be trumped by moments of freewheelin' chaos, extra helpings of sweet indulgence and the occasional breaking of rules.

Sadness still sneaks up on us every so often.  It always catches me when I least expect it.  Especially now with the constant reminder of our baby that would have been due very soon.  Right now our friends are having their beautiful babies and we're so genuinely happy for them.  For we know that beautiful perfection . . . the laughs, the giggles, the sticky fingers, stinky diapers and messy houses that will their own, their "new" definition of "perfection".  Stains, messes and all.

Adventures in using markers.  

Hair . . . a good day pictured here.  Hope she grows out of tangles.