One thing I never thought about when planning on having babies was that we’d become the kind of people who hoard old towels.
Sure, when we had a dog, they came in handy. There’s the wet paws and the muddy paws and the wet belly and the muddy belly…the wet shakes that splatter all over the walls, the furniture…plus our Rusty liked his comfort and enjoyed being all snuggled up in warm blankies on cool nights.
The towels were handy, back in the day.
Now I got me a couple of kids. And a guinea pig. And a part-time dog. All of whom bring in more dirt, dust, mud and clutter than I ever though possible.
Old towels are…necessary. I keep a stack on the guinea pig cage so that if the kids want to let him out they can prevent him from peeing and pooping on the hardwood floor by using the towels. I keep a similar stack near the front door (and side door, and back door) for kids and dog during mud season (which is now). I keep another stack near and in the bathroom because my kids are, um, splashy in the bath. Old towels along the bathtub rim sop up most of the mess (and my floor mopping abilities are faked quite easily that way, too).
But here’s the thing. I long for a house without stacks of old towels all over my house. I long for….less of everything. And yet, if I don’t bite the bullet and keep those towels around, I’ll be forever wiping up stuff. Either that or be endlessly distracted by the damaged floors caused by wet spots.
I’m trying to embrace the childhood-clutter-mess. I’m really trying. But there’s that little bit of yearning for a tidier existence.
Guess will have to wait till they’re off to University.