Summer Days

As the temperature rises (and unexpectedly rapidly drops, as we have recently experienced), the pull to be out of doors rises equally. The annual poke through the dusty bins that hid from the wintry wind in the safety of the shed begins anew and we find treasures long forgotten.

Deflated balls representing all sports, jumpropes and skipballs that likely will remain untouched by the soon-to-be teen, bits and bobs of the bicycle-part variety, frisbees and kites destined to spend the next 6 months in the back of the car for the just in case moments and impromptu park stops.

The garage will be void of shovels and snowblowers, replaced with lawnmowers and gardening tools, and bicycles will once again make getting out of the car a little tricky on the left hand side.

A quick once-over of the current state of our patio set leaves something to be desired. Bird poop from overhead target practice and enough spider webs to make even Charlotte jealous can be cleaned off but the rust on the frame work from seasons spent under a blanket of snow call as loud as the geese flying by for a full replacement.

So the search is on. Chairs, ideally stack-able for winter storage and preferably without cushions that I have to remember to take off when it rains or go collect from about the yard when our summer winds pick up. Table, large enough for 6 without having to pull a lawn chair over to accommodate all of the food offerings that don’t fit on the tiny bits of available space on the table. Umbrella, nope. We spent more time trying to corral that bugger in the wind that we did enjoying its shade and thus, it spent more time on the floor beside the table than upright where it belonged.

And so I wait, flip flops at the ready, cold drink and a good book on standby. Dinner al fresco every weekend. Coffee in the morning sun. Serenaded into the evening by the frogs and other critters.

Deck life.

We are hearty enough to withstand our Winnipeg winters. And as such, we are rightfully rewarded with our Winnipeg summers.

Summertime

Summertime, and the livin’ gets decidedly easier!

The Misconception of Clean

A clean house means a boring life.

That’s what a number of memes and other little quotes and sayings would have you believe. A clean house means you pay no attention to your kids or do not allow anyone to have any fun because you are too busy scrubbing and mopping.

I am here to challenge that.

My house is clean. It is always tidy. Our idea of messy is drastically different from others.

That does not mean we are neat freaks (ok maybe my husband is), or that our daughter is not allowed to be creative, or things do not get out of control.

Au contraire. These things happen. They just happen in certain areas and when they happen they are cleaned up before moving on to the next thing.

We have a craft area in the basement. We go nuts there with glue guns and paint mixes and creations of giant accessories like chainshaws and over-the-top signs for football games. We also tidy up when we are finished.

We have a well-used kitchen that sees chopping and dicing and experimenting and recipes gone bad. It also sees proper clean up and re-organization once we are done.

Is our house spotless? No.

Is our house always tidy? No.

But we do our best. We know where things are and where they belong. We put laundry away when it’s done (most times). We tidy up when we make a mess. We bring things upstairs instead of adding to the pile of items on stair number 3. It has become habit.

If I straighten up the blankets on the couch before I go to bed, do you care? If I wipe up any signs of crumbs on the counter or floor after preparing a meal, does it really affect you? If I tidy up the craft area when we are done with our latest masterpiece, does it matter?

Nope.

It only matters to me. And I would rather do little tidies throughout the week than dread a giant clean up on the weekend.

Clean does not mean spotless. It means maintaining a tidy existence that does not suit all, it just suits us. I don’t wipe the baseboards or wash every window or wipe out the fridge drawers. I put things away. I straighten. I organize.

McK is no less creative because she is expected to clean up after herself. She is no less expressive if tidying is an expectation. We are no less interesting.

A clean house is a contributor to an organized mind.

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I disagree.