I Want My Pottery Barn Life Back!

I loved nothing more than to show off our little house on Bucknell Street. We had put so much time, money, and energy into fixing it up that I loved nothing more than for people to rave about it. Perhaps the highest compliment paid to us was from a friend seeing it for the first time. He exclaimed, "Wow! It looks like something right from a Pottery Barn catalogue." Considering how I routinely poured over the catalogue, this was quite a compliment. But as much as I love Pottery Barn, I should point out we do not own a stitch of furniture from them. Our little house was brought to you by exclusive designers at Target, IKEA, and Pier One.

I don't know what it was but I few weeks back I came up with the crazy idea of hosting a post-Thanksgiving open house for family, neighbors, and a few friends. Seemed like a great idea at the time because I wasn anxious for everyone to see the house but when the reality of cleaning up set in, I was apoplectic. I like to think I don't keep a dirty house. I do clean on a regular basis but, if you were to say, drop in now, you would see a very messy house. So I threw myself into the task of getting our much larger house in order. My dad sensed my frustration and said, "Don't go crazy. Just clean up the sticky stuff." "Dad," I said, "That's 90% of my house right now."

Getting a house under control with a 15-month-old under foot is a task of monumental proportions. You see, for every room you get under control, one room must be trashed. For example, I got our bedroom under control and was patting myself on the back over how good it looked as I gave our bedspread one final tug when I heard a crash. I run into my office only to find Grace dumping my desk drawers with a crazy look in her eyes. When Grace decides to dump a drawer, it's like watching a deranged person perform some type of obsessive task. She gets a glazed over look in her eyes and rips things out of drawers with a speed you would not think possible from a child. You can't talk to her and you literally have to tear her away from it and calm her down. I simply closed the door and walked away.

By Friday the task of organizing the house was largely done. My beloved husband had dutifully hung the drapes in the recently painted living room. It looked great. I ran around trying to find some last minute knick knacks which had been packed away. I breathlessly ran up and down the stairs while trying to ignore the smell of Grace's very messy diaper (bad mommy, I know). I realized how absurd things had become when I ran upstairs to grab one last picture to put out and saw that Digby, shall we say, was being amorous with his bed. I started yelling, "God damnit Digby stop humping your bed!" I had to laugh because it was then I realized how silly I was being. I mean, if the dog wants to "love" his bed, I suppose that's his business.

Everyone loved the house and the day went off without a hitch. I love hearing how much everyone loves our new home because we are truly happy here. So do I still want my Pottery Barn life back? Some days, sure. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. But those people never look like they're having much fun nor do they even look like they live in those spaces. Right now there are magazines all over my living room floor from where Grace dumped them earlier, a kitchen floor full of bibs from where Grace dumped them earlier, and a playroom full of toys that never seems to be completely cleaned up. Would I switch right now for an immaculate home complete with designer drapes and a dining set reminiscent of a French country farm? Not a chance. This is my family's home and I'm proud of it. Just let me know if you're going to be dropping by. . .