As family and friends came over to celebrate our move with us this past week, I noticed something pretty quick.
I apologize. For everything.
The color on the walls. The handprints on the appliances. The weeds. The holes we haven't patched. The cabinets in the kitchen. "I would never pick those!" The window treatments we haven't changed. Our boxes. EVERYTHING.
And as quickly as I noticed it, my stomach turned. "What are you doing Maddie?"
We just bought our first home. There is so much to be excited for. So much to be proud of. But somewhere deep down, there's some conditioning. It tells me I'm defined by what I buy. I'm defined by the house we chose, and how good it is. How good it looks. How much style and taste we have. How on top of everything we are. Since we're on top of nothing, I'm freaking out. Embarrassed. Feeling vulnerable.
So I apologize for it. Work extra hard to point out everything broken. I want everyone to know I know it's not ok. "Don't judge me by my space!" I'm screaming it at everyone on repeat, and pathetically, when we do dial it in, I'll be begging for the opposite. "Look at my awesome house, and tell me I'm ok!"
To each of you who's heard my laundry list of laments about our new home, here's my real apology: I'm sorry for burdening you with my need for approval.
And here's what I really want to say when you ask how the move is going.
- I learned what a floor steamer is! It's this bomb gizmo that heats up water and shoots steam out of a hose with a bristle attachment so you can clean ceramic tile with dirty grout lines. We used it on our kitchen floors and they feel incredible now!
- Putting a little muscle into deep cleaning a kitchen and bathroom is a labor of love, and it feels AMAZING to do things like take a crap and wash dishes in them after you've scrubbed them down to the baseboards and back into cupboards!
- Old houses have the loveliest creaks and sounds.
- Pulling weeds with a dude you're into (#husband) is just as fun as being lazy together.
- Phoenix on a porch is idyllic. And him not sleeping in our room is UH-MAZING.
- I bought an antique rocking chair!
- We're doing stuff in our little house non-stop, except for several moments when we've looked at each other with stupid grins on our faces 'cause we have a bit of earth and an old place that's all OURS. It's as corny as a childhood novel, and every bit as magical when we let it be.
Bottom line, I'm not defined by what I buy, or wear, or the house I live in. I'm not my sense of style, my level of efficiency, my output, or rate of production. Beauty doesn't determine value. Approval doesn't make me ok. Sometimes I forget it guys. Sometimes I make a total ass of myself and apologize for my new house. I just wanted to set the record straight.