When I was a stay-at-home parent, I took great pride in keeping a tidy house. I simply couldn’t stand the clutter associated with having kids. In the event that we would entertain guests in our home, my goal was to keep the common areas so completely devoid of toys and other toddler-related paraphernalia that our visitors would never suspect that we had children.
For years, my wife surmised that I was affected by Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Photos on our walls had to be hung symmetrically and perfectly level. Furniture was arranged and rearranged incessantly. While they rested on an end table or coffee table, the remote controls for our TV, satellite, and surround sound system had to all be laid out parallel to one another and pointed at the entertainment center. Always.
Of all my compulsions, the urge to straighten up after my children (and house guests) was the most exhausting. The anxiety I felt while watching my orderly home fall into disarray was almost too much to bear at times. Fast forward to 2021 and take a look at my house now, the one with seven people living in it—including a baby—and ask me what changed. How am I able to live (happily) among so much chaos and clutter?
The answer: Love and medication.
Although I’m probably not afflicted with OCD, it has been exactly one year since I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. The medication I take has reduced the severity and frequency of my manic episodes which often manifest themselves in periods of intense anxiety. Looking back, the anxiety I felt when my house was not in order may have been caused by or made worse by Bipolar Disorder.
But medicine alone is not enough to compensate for the messes created by seven people living under the same roof. I am able to overlook the disarray because our house is filled with more love than clutter.
When our oldest son Alex moved out in the fall of 2019 and moved into Hatch Hall at Mizzou, there were four of us who remained in our house: Truman, Tiana, Bethany, and me. As most teenagers do, Truman and Tiana spent most of their free time in their own rooms, leaving the rest of the house relatively free of clutter. But after the pandemic forced colleges to switch to virtual instruction and close down their dorms, Alex moved back home, followed a few months later by his new little family—and a whole lot of stuff.
While our house is packed full of stuff, it is positively overflowing with love.
Be it the medication or the abundance of love, the clutter strewn about our home does not stress me out. Tonight, as I was contemplating what I should write about, I strolled through the house in search of inspiration. One quick lap around the living room revealed an infant car seat sitting in a corner, a baby walker parked beside my antique hi-fi, a doorway jumper hanging from the doorframe to the kitchen, a highchair perched behind an overstuffed armchair, a diaper changing station spread over an ottoman, a kid’s M&Ms blanket lying on the floor, and a dozen or so baby toys scattered across the room. Clutter everywhere.
I wouldn’t trade that clutter for anything in the world.
Every single baby-related item in my house is there because a precious little girl named Freya—who I love more than I can possibly express—lives in my house. And Freya lives in my house because her parents Alex and Sarah—who I love more than they can imagine—live in my house. Freya’s Aunt Tiana and Uncle Truman—who I love more than they could ever believe—also live in my house because their mother Bethany—who I love more than anything or anyone in the entire world—chose to go on this crazy, chaotic adventure with me a quarter-century ago.
Show me a home without clutter and I’ll show you a house without any loved-ones around to create it.
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