The Motherhood Better Bootcamp call had been at 9 a.m., a full hour earlier than normal. Emily wanted us to catch her at home before she left for the studio to film her show.
“Good morning, mommies!” she chirped from the screen. Even in pink sweats and a hat with her pink EW logo on it, she looked fabulous. “I hope you guys had fun with your mama village last week. Now are you ready to tackle the Home Challenge?”
The other moms smiled politely. I wondered if any of them were doubting that they could whip their cluttered, overridden-with-toys houses into shape in just one week.
Emily adjusted her hat and continued, “Your home isn’t just a structure, it’s your family’s safe and sacred space. It’s your temple. This week you’re going to learn how to treat it as such.”
Temple? I looked around my living room where I was sitting barefoot and cross-legged because the laundry baskets left little space to stretch out.
“I’ve left some instructional guides for you in the portal, but right now, I want to show you around my house! Ready for a tour?”
Emily’s camera rose as she stood. She shifted her computer to face out, and a sparkling white room filled the screen. Luxurious eggshell suede couches, a cream rug, glittering chandelier lamps, blue and gold porcelain accent vases...did children really live in this house?
“This is the formal family room. It’s where I receive guests. My children love to play in here.”
Play what? Sit Still and Try Not to Break Anything?
“Let’s move on to the kitchen!”
The camera panned down a long hallway with smooth oak hardwood floors and family photos hanging on the walls, and then opened into a rustic, high-ceilinged kitchen. Pots and pans hung from the beams over the chef’s kitchen. Stainless steel appliances with not a trace of fingerprints twinkled as they caught the sunlight.
“The kitchen is where my family gathers several times a day not just to feed their bodies, but their souls.”
Over the next half hour, we saw every immaculate room in Emily’s house, including her children’s themed bedrooms (Unicorn Wonderland, Horses Galore, Nighttime Whimsy, Forest Magic and Beyond Space and Time), her bedroom—it looked straight out of Arabian Nights—the den, her many bathrooms, her meditation room, her dining room, her craft room, her office, her garage and the backyard.
At the end of the tour, there was just jealous silence.
“I hope you got inspired to create a truly beautiful living space of your own. As always, if you need any direction, consult your copy of Motherhood Better, chitchat in the portal, or send me a message. Love you guys!”
Consult the portal? Are there a few hundred thousand dollars in there for me to make my home look like a magazine spread?
Ugh. I clicked through to the message boards and opened the Home Challenge Guide Emily had written for us.
“Ready to start? First I’m going to teach you how to clean up your space, naturally. Check out these recipes for homemade cleaning products!”
I snapped my computer shut. As I looked at Aubrey, who had fallen asleep in a pile of mismatched socks, I knew it: this challenge was going to end me.
5 P.M.
Keeping your home clutter-free should be a priority for all mothers. When a home is tidy and organized children are far more relaxed and better behaved. If you don’t have live-in help, spend 40 minutes a day picking up and keep all toys out of sight.
—Emily Walker, Motherhood Better
David should have already come home. Balancing a still-pajamaed Aubrey on my hip, I stood in front of the stove and stirred the rice, soy sauce, cubed chicken and broccoli concoction I’d thrown together half an hour earlier. If only the recipe website I’d used had been more specific about cooking the rice before mixing it with the other ingredients. I hoped David didn’t mind it a little al dente.
Other than my blasphemous attempt at stir fry, I felt more put together than normal. Aubrey’d had a great nap and I’d already done the obligatory pre-husband-coming-home speed clean. David and I had an unspoken rule that he wasn’t allowed to see the state of our home before I could take it from Dumpster Rat Wedding to Somewhat Livable. It wasn’t about my feeling like I had to show off for him, it was about my dignity as a person. I couldn’t let him see how I lived during the day.
My phone buzzed on the counter. It was David. Be home in 20 min.
Put all the toys back in their bins.
Clear the dining room table of breakfast plates, milk splotches, dirty bibs, baby socks, empty bowls with dried-up baby-food goo and junk mail.
Sweep the Funny O’s off the floor.
Wipe my hair off the bathroom floor (seriously, it looked like an infestation of seaweed on a dried up beach).
Pick up the clothes that I’d left all over the house during the day.
Hastily make our bed.
Wipe down the kitchen counters.
Spray some all-purpose cleaner into the air to give the impression that someone who lives here cares.
This is the type of cleaning that affects the top layer of the house only. If you were to open a closet door, an avalanche of random goods would come bursting out, revealing me as the fraud I am. To move any appliance half an inch to the left or right would expose a grime outline like some sort of waiting-to-be-filled-in coloring sheet. Peek into a linen closet and you’d find bunched up fitted sheets, towels strewn about and random panties.
A quick once-over of the interior of my home would fool you into thinking that someone conscientious and domestically proficient resides within these walls, but no. Anyone with an eye for detail, i.e., my mother-in-law, would know better in a matter of moments.
I’ve gotten really good at the speed clean over the past few months but the Motherhood Better Home Challenge is all about making real change. I don’t want Aubrey to grow up in a pigsty, embarrassed to bring her friends over to the house.
*
Flash-forward to ten years from now...
Me: Aubrey, why don’t you have a sleepover this weekend?
Aubrey: (taking my hand) I’d love to, Mom, but the other parents won’t let their children spend the night here on account of the... (She gestures around the room at the laundry pile that is now to the ceiling.)
*
No. I needed to get this under control now. Tomorrow I tackle the clothing situation that is haunting me like some kind of 100-percent-cotton phantom of the opera.
I shifted Aubrey onto my other hip and mixed our sorry dinner some more.
“All it needs is a little love,” I sang to Aubrey as I brought a mouthful of the now-congealing goo to my lips, blowing before tasting it. The gummy rice was somehow still hard in the middle. I felt the grains crack under my molars.
Aubrey winced, “Yucky.”
She wasn’t wrong.