Tonight, I keep coming back to something that has been in the back of my mind since I found out I was knocked up.

It’s quite simple, really, as it all comes back to me as me.

There’s these aspects of me that have been heightened while pregnant. I’ve blamed this on hormones, and in some part, this is true, but it’s also just parts of me maybe coming out more and more.

I know we all have our own idosyncries. I neither think these are good or bad … they are just parts of us. However, I do tend to think they start to cross over and border on the unhealthy line when they begin to rule us.

People, my dear People, I have got to stop obesessing on this cleanliness thing. Of course, I’m supposed to be in full nesting mode, right? I can use that. Except the thing is, I might as well be in a perpetual state of nesting, because I’m always this way.

Tonight, The BF and I came home from our super exciting evening of buying more overpriced baby shit that we’ll probably only use for the next four months and the unspeakable happened.

I looked down, as we stood in the kitchen, and just wanted to f-ing lose my mind. The BF still had his shoes on.

I said something very nice along the lines of, get your f-ing shoes OFF NOW WHAT THE F.

Now in my defense, I’m the only one who cleans. I am 10000% okay with this because I take full responsibility of my craziness with cleanliness and frankly, I don’t think The BF’s standards are anywhere near what mine are, so I’m triple okay with being the one who cleans.

This means I also have ground rules. Like : take off your GD shoes. I think it was compounded because I scrubbed the floors on my hands and knees a month ago and was hoping I wouldn’t have to do it again. And my mom kept forgetting to take off her shoes and was traipsing around, not to mention, The Littles.

I’m sure you can guess what I’ll be doing tomorrow. I’m sure you also think I’m insane to be scrubbing floors with a week to go to birthing this baby, and you’re right — I am. But, hey, a little floor scrubbing never hurt anyone. Right?

Anyway. I got to thinking this evening about this whole deal I have with cleanliness and order — and please, be ye not under any false assumption that our home is perfectly clean at all times and organized. It’s not. I let things slide all the time. It drives The BF crazy that I randomly throw things in drawers when I don’t know where they go.

But, I definitely try to keep everything in some kind of order. I believe it’s important. Your inner space is a reflection of your inner self.

Where I need to improve is in the department of allowing.

Is it that big of an f-ing deal that The BF had his shoes on in the kitchen? Or that The Littles ran the whole upstairs with their shoes on?

I’m about to have a baby, who will soon be his own person. Meaning: this kid is going to do things that drive me crazy. Things that I don’t agree with, stupid things … like the way he might insist on building a castle or some shit like that.

But, I have GOT to learn to allow — to fully allow him to be him and constantly be in check over what matters and what doesn’t.

Dirt isn’t going to kill me {and ironically, People, even with my cleanliness obsession I am not a germo-phobe at all}. Mania, however, will.

I want to be the mom who is consumed with being aware and present with her child — not when the floors were last washed. And I don’t want my child to grow up learning compulsive behavior patterns from his mama. I want him to be more concerned with enjoying life — and being able to say that he watched me enjoy and relish in the simple, beautiful, everyday life happenings.

Not frantically running the vacuum. Priorities and perspectives, People.