#notsorry

Before I got married, I had a wild imagination about the kind of housewife I was going to be.   My house was going to constantly be spotless. I was going to have labeled bins everywhere, and everything would have its place.  Laundry would be done one load per day, and everyday, we would go to bed with an empty washer and dryer.  Dishes would be run right after dinner, and Jackson would have them unloaded before he left for work.    This is what my laundry room looks like almost once a week, and you know what? I'm not sorry.   This is what our kitchen table looks like 100% of the time. Again, I'm not sorry.    (ignore the coke bottles... we're spray painting them for duck decoys) Does this make me any less of an awesome wife? Pre-marriage Chrissy would tell you yes.  Married Chrissy is here to say no, not one bit.  That was a difficult realization for me.   Accepting the disorder in my home has been something I've had to cope with.  It did not come easy.  Our first few weeks of marriage, I busted my tail and couldn't rest until it was all spotless.  Our apartment didn't look lived in, and I was spending valuable (what could have been) quality time in the laundry closet, scrubbing the bathroom, or making sure every sock hit the hamper.    Something someone said about their kids made me think about my husband.  "Are they going to remember that you spent all day doing their laundry, or are they going to remember the adventure you had?"  It resonated with me so loudly.  Jackson, sure, remembers the days I would stay home and clean all day long.  But he remembers it because I didn't take that time to spend with him.    If there's laundry on the floor come Monday morning, I can almost guarantee you we had an awesome weekend, and that's what matters.