Today I didn’t make the beds. The last time I didn’t make the beds was — oh, I don’t know, maybe never.

Growing up, my mother’s home was always spotless, the symbol of model housekeeping. The laundry and cooking seemed to get done by themselves. We were trained from a young age to make our beds first thing in the morning and to keep our bedrooms clean. No matter what was happening in our home, be it a sheva brachos or parlor meeting, our bedrooms were impeccable and the doors were left wide open. All were welcome to come in and take a look — this home is Clean and Neat.

Like all daughters, I strive to emulate my mother and would love to impart the values I grew up with. However, I’m a kollel wife with four energetic children under the age of five. My boys in particular are very active, to put it kindly, and the results of their escapades leave me with a lot of cleaning up to do.

This brings me to my greatest challenge, my all-encompassing struggle, my battle with The Mess. This monstrous creature has developed an ominous name and identity within my home. Why am I so stressed? Because of The Mess. Why were we late? Because of The Mess. Why didn’t I get that task done? The Mess.

Keeping up with and conquering The Mess has become the point of my existence, my mission statement — in addition to mothering my children lovingly, of course. My ability to conquer The Mess while maintaining a happy home has become, to me, the measure of my character.

Today was an unexpected snow day and school was called off. My baby was sick and the kids were cranky. By eleven, we had already done Tylenol and Play-Doh and scrambled eggs and markers. I looked at the still-pajama-clad children and the growing Mess and knew that we had to get out.

We did it — we just left. Left a hurricane behind. We went to the library and I didn’t clean up first. For once, The Mess had won.

We had a great time at the library — everyone was relaxed, we read and played, and had a great time.

As we drove home and approached our block, I felt the tension rising within me as I thought of what was facing me at home. I was desperate to clean up as soon as we arrived, but my four hungry and tired children took precedence. After a whirlwind supper and bedtime, I collapsed onto the couch and looked around at the combined chaos of an uncleared breakfast, lunch, and supper. The Mess at its finest. I almost burst into tears, but then I overheard my daughter telling my husband about the turtle at the library. As I listened to her animated recounting and looked around at my nemesis The Mess, something in my mind came into clear focus.

(Excerpted from Family First, Issue 627)