I don’t know why I even bother sometimes. I’ll spend the morning scrubbing, tidying, putting things back in their place—only for my toddler to undo all of my work in less time than it takes to drink a lukewarm cup of coffee.
It’s not just the toys, though those are everywhere. It’s the crumbs, the spills, the mysterious sticky handprints that show up on windows, walls, and somehow the fridge — like he’s leaving little reminders that this is his house now. I’ll wipe something down, turn my back for two seconds, and there it is again—another smudge, another mess, another reminder that nothing ever stays clean for long.
I try to stay on top of it, but the truth is, it feels like a losing game. I’ll vacuum the floor, and within minutes, there’s a trail of crushed crackers and spilled juice. I’ll put the pillows back on the couch, only to watch him toss them right back onto the floor like it’s a game we both know I’ll never win.
There’s something about toddler messes that feels personal. It’s like no matter how hard I try, the mess is always two steps ahead of me. And the worst part? It’s constant. There’s no “done” when you’re cleaning with a toddler around — just temporary pockets of calm before the next wave of chaos hits.
Some days I just sit in the middle of the mess and wonder if it’s even worth trying. Because the second I finish one room, he’s already working on destroying the next. And I know this is part of the season we’re in, but damn — it’s exhausting.
If you’re out there feeling like your house will never be clean again, just know I see you. We’re not lazy, and we’re not failing — we’re surviving. One sticky handprint at a time.
