It is no secret my house is a disaster. No, disaster is too soft of a word, it is a calamitous tragedy around here. Yes, my house is just tragic, and with two preteens, two dogs, and a musician it is a struggle to just keep the smells at bay. I like to call my cleaning methods “riot control” if it is not sticky or stinky, ain’t nobody got time for that. I like to think that it is because The Husband and I are both very creative people, and creative people are messy (but, in reality, it is just because I am lazy and would rather be writing, reading, or Netflixing). On top of that I want my children to be creative so they create all over the house, and like their parents, they don’t pick it up until the mess has created an all-out high anxiety situation where we are all yelling and crying and cleaning. So, it’s best we keep busy and just ignore all the messes around us, a little like life itself.
Musicians tend to make the biggest messes, because their toys take up a lot of space. At one point, we moved our Princess PoopyPants’ bedroom upstairs to make room for The Husbands’ “beat lab”, as he so affectionately called it (which was supposed to be our office but, as usual, was taken over by the music that runs our lives). Luckily that room had a door on it so I could hide all the speakers, stacks of papers on the floor, and all the cords. I was never so thrilled when they started practicing at The In-laws (which happens to conveniently be right next door) before this happened there was so much music clutter. Now there is only a little music clutter. Everyone has that ‘junk basket’, their catch all they throw all those little gadgets in they don’t know what to do with. Ours is always filled with tuners, EBows, picks, old guitar strings, and all the cords. Our corners are piled high with merch boxes, speakers, acoustics, and… well, all the cords. There are so many cords in the music business, random cords hanging from walls, wrapped up in baskets, tangled in the pile of blankets sitting on my couch. I think there should be an initiation process before one becomes a band wife where we hide cords all over their house and if they can find all of them, wrap them up, and find a convenient place to store them all before losing their minds (and if they don’t lose their shit quite then, we will sneak in and redo the mess all over again, maybe this time throwing a bunch of clear guitar picks every wear too, and repeat until they are finally driven to the point somewhere between bat shit crazy and Mariah Carey breakdown). We will only know then they will be ready for this lifestyle.
It seems like I am complaining, but really, I love the mess and chaos (if you didn’t know this about me by now). The reason for this blog is because this morning after dropping my kids off at school and having that one ‘ah’ moment when I am finally alone with my coffee and thoughts, I looked around and saw the mess. My initial reaction wasn’t frustration and anger but an overwhelming sense of gratefulness. I remember back when I first started dating The Husband and I told a mutual friend about our first date and how well it went. She exclaimed, “You guys are going to have the most creative kids!” I remember imagining our lives in some bohemian utopia (we were only eighteen at the time and I didn’t have real good grasp on reality yet) where we sang songs and wrote beautiful poetry for our children every night, where our children would flourish and we would all have intellectual conversations and create magic together. Really that isn’t too far off, if you count quoting Futurama and Tenacious D lyrics as intellectual conversations. I never imagined the mess that goes along with life, but I have embraced it. As I am picking up everyone’s mess while grumbling about it, I find sketches and lyrics written out on a food stained paper by my Little Babybubbaloo or a story Princess PoopyPants insisted on using my laptop to write (usually about bunnies). I will take the mess to have such an amazing family that I know will be filled with creating their own happiness for years to come, and that fills me with enough happiness to get me through all the crazy, messy days.