Visitors and Apologies

So, ever since Joseph was born, we've had a ton of visitors, and the apartment has never been messier. This is because when Joseph is crying or eating, I can't clean. When he is playing, I want to play with him. When he is sleeping, I want to sleep.

Doesn't leave much time for scrubbing the shower.

This means that pretty much anytime anyone comes into the house, the first thing I say is, "Sorry about the mess." If I can't find the willpower to mop, at least I can apologize.

I mean, the apartment's never been amazingly, consistently clean. If we knew people were coming over, like for weekly ward choir, we were good about cleaning the living room and even dusting the piano. We would have a clean table and maybe even a shiny sink.

But if you stopped by unannounced? Proceed with caution.

These days, what with a tiny, needy baby and a move across the country in about a week, it's kind of a disaster zone. And since it's a disaster zone already, it's easy to let everything slide.

And all this is just depressing because I know better. I really don't mind cleaning or dejunking. It just takes a little motivation, a strong nesting instinct, or an inordinate amount of free time for me to do anything beyond the basics.

Luckily, most of the time, the basics are good enough. But today my mom came to help me pack (thanks mom) and I knew that I would feel disappointing if things were dirty. But I didn't have time to do them all before she arrived (I tried), so what did I do instead?

I explained. I made as many excuses as I could.

"There are dirty dishes because Kaylie and Jennie came over and then I talked to Kevin (who is in Michigan for a conference) and then Leslie came over and then it was bedtime so I didn't have time to do them."

"The scrubbers are gross because I wasn't the last one who used them. I always clean them."

"I tried getting rid of the hard water deposits but I couldn't get them off." (I didn't try vinegar.)

And even for other things as she helped me pack, I continued to explain.

"I don't have that many clothes, do I? I just sent a bunch to DI! Well, I still wear all of them. I can tell you the  last time I wore each thing. And I don't have many shoes."

I wonder why I feel like I have to apologize and explain so much. Why can't I just say, "Look, it's a little cluttered. But I can live in this. I would probably focus better if the stove were clean, and I probably have way more junk than I need, but I really can live in this. So I'm sure you can survive half an hour."

And really, who's paying that much attention, anyway?