I grew up in a house which would be near-impossible to replicate. My mom was a perfectionist, and her house was always immaculate. And it still is! Everything had its place, nothing was ever out of position, and every cushion was always plumped. Hell, as your bum left the sofa, she was already straightening up after you. There was no dust, no ants, and no flies. There were no dishes left in the sink. There were no dirty clothes sitting outside the laundry hampers. There were no toys strewn around the house. There were barely any tchotchkes collected from markets or their travels. Instead, there were vases of Lillies in every room, or an arrangement made-up of mostly-white flowers. There were a couple of armchairs and sofas bought for aesthetics over comfort. There were lots of antiques and framed oil paintings. And there was a statuesque Grandfather Clock in the entrance hall which chimed the hours of our days and nights away. The place was beautiful, but like a museum. It definitely lacked a lived-in feel, and was a decidedly non-kid-friendly environment. But that’s how my mom liked things: Architectural-Digest-ready. I have such anxiety taking our son to their house even now, because Aidan is a grabber and a thrower. I often remind my mom to move things out of reach, but mostly, she doesn’t. It’s a full time job running after him when we drop in!
When I set off on my own as a young adult, and came to organise my own space, I found that I was fastidious too. Not quite at my mom’s level, but I liked things to be neat. More than that though, I liked things to be CLEAN. I am a pathological germaphobe and it makes me a high maintenance partner, because I like things kept up to a certain standard of cleanliness! I’m no fan of forgetfulness, laziness, a shortcut, or a half-assed job. I like things done right and done well. But it’s more than that. Because I don’t just have panic attacks about germs in my home, I also deeply fear germs in public spaces. I’m the kind of person who avoids public and office restrooms at all costs! Who shamelessly sanitises the handlebar of my shopping trolley, without caring who’s watching. Who stretches my sleeve to avoid contact with lift buttons and door handles and absolutely anything in a hospital waiting room. I hate receiving registered mail, or needing to sign for packages with someone else’s pen. I don’t like ATM’s or credit card machines. I will not share cutlery or glasses, not even with my husband or child. I like meat and vegetables sliced on separate cutting boards. There’s antibacterial Sunlight liquid in the kitchen, and Dettol hand wash in our bathrooms. I prefer shower gel over a shared bar of family soap. I would rather die a thousand deaths than get into a hot tub! And I don’t like clear plastic water bottles because I can see my own backwash after just a few swigs. Basically, I’m an absolute loony tune!
I think it’s a part of my neurodivergence, honestly. Because it’s all just super extra! And I’m sure there’s a strong medication out there with my name on it, but despite my foibles and self-imposed limitations, I’ve somehow made it to 42, and I somehow survived COVID. In fact, COVID lockdown gave me the perfect excuse to let my crazy flag fly! I was sanitising everything! Including my phone screen and debit card. My guys, it was out of control! I was pregnant for the second time with our rainbow baby in 2020, and I vividly remember my husband telling me that I’d have to calm TF down once our baby arrived, because babies need exposure to germs! Of course, he’s 100% right, but I felt hopeful that I would adapt to that when it all swung around.
Well… becoming a mother certainly did test my personal boundaries and forced me to face a lot of my fears. Because babies are messy, and bodily fluids are everywhere, and they pee into your face when you’re changing their diapers, and upchuck into your hair when you burp them. So perhaps it was fortunate that Aidan was a high needs and challenging baby, because I literally didn’t have the time or energy to think about any of those things! I was completely preoccupied by my baby’s apparent distress, and didn’t give a hoot what I was covered in come the end of the day. This relentless exposure therapy forced me to surrender to a level of mess and chaos that would turn my mother’s hair grey(er)! But over three-almost-four years of motherhood, I’ve dialled my need for neatness all the way back. My house is officially A State of Disaster at all times! There are toys on the floor, crayon on the walls, Hot Wheels under every piece of furniture, and sippy cups as far as the eye can see! But my kiddo is warm, fed, clothed, happy, and healthy, and that is really all that matters to me these days.
But I still do have the occasional heart attack when it comes to germs… and toddlers could care less about such things! Our little sensory seeker doesn’t see dirt, or yuck, or ick, or recognise that there are things that shouldn’t be touched or mouthed. This beautiful child has something gross in his mouth almost every day! I have learned to be tolerant of a lot of things, but there are a few things that will bring me to my end. Chief amongst them is my absolute worst and most dreaded household object: The toilet brush. Guys, I lose my ever-loving shit when Aidan picks it up. Because he doesn’t just wave it around and put it back. He inspects it, he explores it, he rubs it on himself and everything else, and most memorably, one time when I was putting on socks for all of 20 seconds, he tasted it. I was just about ready for my grippy socks and straight jacket when that happened! I am still traumatised just recalling it now! Honestly, I just can’t deal. My husband always knows when this has happened because I reach a pitch that only dogs and bats can hear, before leaping into action and getting Aidan straight into a bath. And while he splashes around happily, completely oblivious to the pandemonium all around him, I get out a big bucket of disinfectant, my rubber gloves and mop, and go to town on my hands and knees with a sponge if necessary.
Because all such incidents seem to happen randomly and within a fraction of a second, I have put all the toilet brushes in the house up out of reach, save for the one in our guest loo. And until Aidan can understand the concept of “yuck”, there they shall remain. I often wonder if I was like this as a child? Or if all children are like this? Maybe they are! I guess I wouldn’t know because this sort of thing is so rarely spoken about by moms who feel pressured to present a guise of perfection and full control to the world! But real life isn’t polished, and definitely not Instagram-worthy at all times. Some of us are hiding toilet and toothbrushes from our toddlers and there’s nothing shameful about it. It just is what it is. What I can say is, motherhood is absolutely wild! I never thought I’d have to rearrange my attitude and adjust my comfort level to this extent. Anyone who claims their child is the picture of perfection, is not being honest! I suspect there are kiddos gnawing on things they shouldn’t up and down this country! It’s just not something people bring up over dinner or share on their socials for fear of being #cancelled. My parenting is not perfect, and my child’s childing isn’t either! It is messy, it is chaotic, it is super gross sometimes, and it’s a barrel of shrieks and laughter. But at the end of the day, good, bad, or ugly, it’s all part of a journey you wouldn’t swop for anything!
