Forget the Homes on Pinterest.... Just take care of yours!

Have we forgotten how to create a home that feels like… home? Hear me out—not an attack, just a gentle nudge and a pinch of nostalgia.

Back in the day (think hand-me-down couches and wicker furniture), our homes weren’t just places to crash; they were sanctuaries. Even with mismatched decor and impossibly busy schedules, keeping it clean and cozy was a thing. I’m talking about that magical balance of personal pride and pure survival—the kind of space where chaos stops at the front door.

When I look back on my own "scientific research" (aka binge-watching old home movies), one thing sticks out: no matter how tight money was or how hectic life became, the homes I lived in carried a sense of care. Chaos didn’t have a foothold because it wasn’t allowed to. Why? Because there’s something about walking into a clean space that says, “Life is messy, but I’ve got this.”

Now, I’ll admit times have changed. Women are conquering workforces, juggling responsibilities, and frankly, nobody is out here vacuuming in heels or ironing curtains (thank heavens, right?). But life’s not so fast-paced or evolved that we can’t pause to take pride in our homes—messy kids, demanding jobs, and all.

And speaking of messes, let's have some real talk. If you live with another functioning adult who refuses to help keep things in order? Evict them. Kidding (kind of). But seriously—cleanliness should be a team sport. A Swiffer isn’t magical, and you can’t out-organize someone else’s mess with hope alone.

Because here's the deal, keeping a clean house isn’t about appearances—it’s about feeling good. A tidy space offers something intangible yet deeply impactful. It’s walking into a room and feeling calm instead of overwhelmed. It’s knowing that whether it’s your child’s friend, their mom, or, heaven forbid, your mother-in-law, your home reflects care—not chaos.

It’s not about perfection—this isn’t a makeover show with sudden before-and-after magic. It's about consistency. You vacuum today, tomorrow, and oh yes, next week. Think of it as a workout—skip too many sessions, and things start falling apart. And sure, your house may not promise six-pack abs, but it will promise a slice of peace in a world that’s often anything but.

At the heart of it, this isn’t just about the adults in the home. It’s about what we’re showing our kids. It’s teaching them that chaos doesn’t have to be their norm. That respect for their environment creates a sense of stability, pride, and yes—a little joy.

Take pride in your space. Not for the mom next door or the surprise visitor, but for yourself and your family. Because everyone deserves a place that feels like home—a clean, loving sanctuary where you can breathe, laugh, and live fully.

Bottoms Up!

 I found it wonderfully ironic that we sat at a table with four kids, and the only person to spill their drink was Pop. The humor of the moment doubled the next day—there we were, gathered on the lobby floor of the Oklahoma convention center, and Pop managed to up the ante by spilling a bottle of water right under his butt!

Lolly Got Roasted

My grandkid absolutely roasted me today, and honestly, it was hilarious. We were out at a restaurant in Midtown for a family dinner when my grandkid decided to become a stand-up comedian. The conversation had turned to cars—specifically Matthew’s shiny new ride. Naturally, that spiraled into everyone dreaming out loud about their ideal car. When it was my turn, I said I’d love another Expedition (my personal favorite, for the record). But I added that I’d want the third row, because, I do a lot of stuff with the grandkids....

Cue Wakely, interrupting mid-sentence, with maximum dramatic flair, “NOT ME!” I just blinked at her, trying to process the burn, before sputtering out, “Uh, you live TWO hours away ya dork!” (And yes, the capitals were necessary—you have to get the tone right here). Everyone laughed and Wakely smirked at me... Actually smirked!

The funniest part? When Wakely does visit, that’s exactly when I need the extra row! She always wants to do things with all her girl cousins. Guess she’s just keeping me honest, even from two hours down the road!

Gypsy & the Beast

Being married is hard work! Trust me, I know—I’ve been doing it for 30 years, and sometimes I’m just done. (Seriously, where’s my gold medal?) Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband, but I’m a free-spirited gypsy soul at heart. I thrive on quiet moments alone, spontaneous adventures, and creative whims. And nothing kills the vibe faster than feeling like I have to operate under someone else’s “laws.”

Dictatorship? Not in this house!

Every now and then, I have to (lovingly) remind my husband of that. I’ll say something like, “Hey babe, just a heads-up—I’m not building an empire here, I’m painting with watercolors and making up song lyrics in my head. So, maybe don’t stifle the creative flow, okay??”

Marriage is about compromise, but I draw the line at losing my spark. And sure, some days it’s frustrating, but other days, it’s just flat-out hilarious. After all, who knew a gypsy heart and a rule-follower could make it work for three decades—mostly laughing, occasionally eye-rolling, and sometimes hiding in completely different rooms?

But hey, that’s the beauty of love—it’s messy, hilarious, and just a little exhausting. Cheers to 30 years of figuring it out, one gypsy-soul tantrum at a time.

Is That Me Now?

If social media platforms had family roles, it would definitely be the slightly unhinged aunt who brings chaos to Thanksgiving dinner.

I scroll through my feed, see familiar faces, and suddenly think, Whoa, that’s my classmate?! They look like they could’ve been my parents in high school! Then it hits me like a poorly filtered selfie—I’m the same age as them.

GASP! If they look like my parents did back then… does that mean I do too? NO. Surely not. I’m still in my 20s… right?

RIGHT?!

Afraid not! Reality sets in.... One would think being the Grandmother of 11 kids would keep me in the know.... Sigh* I feel portrayed.

So now, I’ve made the executive decision to avoid mirrors for the remainder of the day—solely to protect my fragile sanity. Thanks a lot, Facebook. You win this round. 🙃