if you come to my house early…..

Scrolling through my unpublished drafts, I found this post I’d written around the time Rhyan was born. And it was too true and to ‘me’, not to share. Funny enough, nothing has changed. This is still me and my family and my house 99.3727% of the time 🙂

True story, ya’ll….

A couple of months ago, Ben and I were getting ready to close on our construction loan and convert it to a mortgage loan. Rhyan was a month old at the time, and PB was out of school for the summer, and, at times, I felt like I was struggling to be a functional human being.

In order to close the loan, we had to have the appraisal guy come and take pictures of the house for our loan processing. He called to schedule an appointment to come on Friday, at 10:30 in the morning. We had to go out of town the day before, but I thought I could still manage (when will I learn?). I could clean the house after we got back and tidy up any ‘leftovers’ in the morning before he came.

We ended up getting home around 10:30 p.m. on Thursday night. The house was a disaster and I was too tired to do anything productive, so we put the kids to bed and went to bed ourselves.

That night, the stars aligned and the unicorns danced, and somehow, somehow, the kids and I slept until 9:00! I felt like I had spent the night at the spa. Ben had to work so he was already gone when I got up. I started our usual morning routine: feed the kids, wipe the butts, and steal a few snuggles.

I looked at the clock….9:15. That gives me an hour to straighten up this place (and myself). 

Just about the time I was surveying the damage and deciding what mess I would clean first, I heard the gravels crunching in our driveway. Hmmm. I looked out the window, thinking I’d probably see my mamaw.

No such luck.

It was the appraisal guy. And he was 1 hour and 15 minutes early.

And at one instance, I realized all of these things: I was still in my underwear. I had not brushed my teeth. There were dishes piled HIGH in the sink, and it smelled strangely of crusty tacos and an old sponge. Rhyan had just soaked the couch with spit up. Laundry was everywhere. Everywhere. I was still in my underwear. I was still in my underwear.

And actually, I just stood at the window until he was completely out of his truck, and starting to walk up on our porch. I don’t know why. I think I was just shocked at the complete mess that was my house, and paralyzed by the fact that I didn’t know what to do first.

I took off running to the bedroom to throw on some shorts. That was all I had time for. By the time I heard the first knock, I had just got my bottoms up. I ran through the house and told PB to hurry and pick up the house.

Uhhhh, okay, mom. I’ll get right on that.

When I got to the door, I realized I knew the appraisal guy. Not sure if it makes this situation better or worse?

Anyway, he came in the house, told me he just needed to get a few pictures for the paperwork, and he’d be out of the way. I apologized for the mess and craziness of the house. He said not to worry, he’d seen worse. Yeahhh.

He walked around the kitchen first, so I made a quick dodge to the bedroom to throw some clothes under the bed.

As I was slinging socks into the closet, I heard him flush the toilet. YA’LL. I HEARD HIM FLUSH THE TOILET.

I felt my face get hot. You know when you get really embarrassed and you get the red face and it burns? Mine was on fire, literally. He had walked into the half bath to take a picture FOR THE APPRAISAL OF OUR HOUSE, and he had to flush a turd down the toilet before he could take the picture.

I will have you know that at this point, I quit cleaning my room, and calmly walked into the living room with my children, and accepted the sting of defeat.

So, the moral of this story is if you plan on coming to my house to see me and you come at an earlier time than promised, I can not guarantee the state of my home. Consider yourself warned!

Have a blessed day 🙂