My substack is about momfluencer culture and interrogating the myth of the ideal mother. So it probably wasn’t the most strategic decision to name it In Pursuit of Clean Countertops. Why not “Exploding Ideal Motherhood” or “Interrogating Momfluencer Culture” or _______? I don’t know. I do know that when I set out to name the newsletter, clean countertops immediately sprang to mind (you can read more about that here). But last week’s interview with KC Davis really made me consider clean countertops from a new angle.
A clean corner of a single countertop.
Here’s a quote from KC that is about laundry but can be applied to any care task, including clearing and wiping down countertops!
“Laundry is morally neutral. Laundry can't make you good, bad, right, or wrong. It can’t make you a bad mom, a good mom, whatever.”
I intellectually understand that care tasks are morally neutral (especially after talking to KC) but because certain domestic images are so emblazoned in my brain as being connected to “good” or “successful” or “correct” motherhood, I’ve struggled throughout the years to prevent myself from attaching moral weight to specific tasks, perhaps none more than clean countertops.
For me, clean countertops communicate order, serenity, control, and, depending on the countertop itself: beauty. A bare slab of clean soapstone or granite says to me: “This person has her shit together.”
And not only that, but “This person has her shit together and her having her shit together is having positive ramifications on everyone in this environment including herself.”
After talking to KC, I’ve been asking myself: do clean countertops give me real joy? Or do they make me feel like I’m checking a box and therefore am “ok?”
I can say pretty confidently that I love looking at the pale wood of my kitchen island, I love looking at the candle in it’s little amber jar when it’s not surrounded by Pokemon cards or a half-eaten bag of Pirate’s Booty. So I access a certain amount of aesthetic joy from clean, clear countertops. But what about function? Do clean countertops meaningfully make my household more functional? Not really. And do I (consciously or unconsciously) tell myself “I’m more pulled together now that my countertops are clean” when in reality all of my personal insecurities still exist with or without clean countertops?
So I guess my question is: Which care task do you find most difficult to detach from moral assumptions?
I think it’s also interesting to note that I feel pretty insecure about being perceived as a person who has her shit together! Like, I do not frequently feel super “serene,” “ordered,” or even in “control” (whatever that feels like). Does your Achilles heel care task also connect to your personal insecurities? I’d love to know.
I also wrestle with my relationship to clean countertops and straightening couch cushions, which feels very related. I don't think a clear surface or a couch cushion not falling over on itself adds meaningfully to my family's quality of life. (Arguably, with countertops, leaving things out and accessible is MORE functional than putting it all away?) But MY BRAIN does not function as well when there are items scattered everywhere. I tidy both counters and couch cushions every morning as soon as I come downstairs/while the coffee is brewing and it usually doesn't take any more time than that, so it feels like a low investment of time/resources in something that does make me feel calmer and more able to function and thus ready to start the day. But this may be 90 percent social conditioning? It is obviously an exercise in futility because I will be doing it again tomorrow morning? Idk. I think I do it mostly for my own happiness and therefore, it's worth doing. But I also know the idea of someone COMING OVER and seeing messy counters/couch cushions brings on all of my Feelings so clearly it's not just for me. GAH.
Clean floors. My floors are never, ever clean. There are either toys scattered around, or mud or dust or spilled cheerios or one million other things to trip over or crunch under your foot. I absolutely hate it and it makes me feel like my house is such a mess and therefore I am a mess and YET i also hate cleaning them, so it just stays that way. When i walk into someone's house and they have clean floors, it's incredible to me. how do you do it??
OK, so I have my stuff. I love a clean countertop, a made bed, a tidy closet, but I can live with a messy bathroom and a dining room table piled with books/work. Within my family of origin, I was known as the messy one, and I still fall far short of my mother's/sister's standards. And yet, life being life, I'm the person taking care of both of them, in different ways. They are not being punished and I am not being rewarded, the bottom line is that no one can be tidy enough to avoid heartache and no one will ever be messy enough to deserve heartache. None of this matters. So do what makes you happy.
I love having a clean house. I hate the assumption, perceived or otherwise, that it’s MY job to keep it that clean. It enrages me that if someone stops by and the house isn’t clean (which with 3 kids and two working parents, is often)…they are going to look to ME, not my husband, as the slacker. EnRAGES me. My husband often jokes “sounds like you’re mad at society”, but damn straight I am. 🤨
Because as mad as it makes me, there is still a little programmed part of me that feels a twinge when there are dishes in the sink, and crap all over the floor (not literally, but that’s always possible too, lol) and my MIL stops by. I just don’t think my husband even feels a HINT of that. 🤬 #MadAtSociety 😂
Living with chronic illness can mean there are times where even the most basic hygiene tasks can be impossible - brushing your teeth, bathing, etc. In the past I could go weeks without being able to wash my hair and not only does not being well enough to keep clean make you feel bad, it also changes how you look so when you see yourself in a mirror it’s like a visual representation of how bad you feel. For me, being able to feel like I *look* like myself, always has a substantial impact on my quality of life.
I think packing lunches is a big one! There is enough weird big guilt/morality tied into feeding kids, period, but the added layer of someone else* getting to pass judgement on you feels huge.
*my logical brain knows that our wonderful daycare and preschool teachers probably won't notice or won't care that I'm packing a PB&J for the third day this week, and yet...
Cooking from scratch. Logically, I KNOW it's okay for a meal to just be food, not have complicated steps, or even necessarily good nutritional value. Is your family fed? Okay, good. Right? So, why is it that dinner gives me an existential crisis? I used to dread dinner growing up. The meat was always overcooked, the veggies were canned and waxy, and we circulated about four or five edible but not delicious meals for a good 15 years. I was picky, and I was constantly being scowled at or outright yelled at for not being able to swallow the bone-dry chicken. We never tried anything new. Now I think I flounder in the other direction -- I want dinner to always be beautiful, tasty, and well-rounded. Veggies are fresh. Curry paste is made from scratch. But it's exhausting! I clearly need to bring this up with my therapist.
I need things put back where they belong. I’m always putting stuff away and adjusting the position of things to the “right” spot… even in closets. I need this for my type A sense of order (and not stubbing my toe on sh*t) but it’s definitely backed by the idea that a tidy home is an “acceptable” home.
Clean countertops are also definitely a thing for me. My mother and in-laws tends to have a lot of clutter on their counters and it always embarrassed me growing up. Having my kitchen island clear of stuff makes me feel calm.
Knowing what I’m making for dinner before 5:30pm. Feeding people seems like such a basic part of the job that when I don’t have a decent meal in mind I feel like I’m messing up. Not a gourmet meal, mind you, just something I know is nutritious and filling. UNRELATED BUT RELATED: Do you remember FlyLady? Her mantra was “clean your sink.” I could go on and on about FlyLady (the publication, not the person) and its connection to momfluencer culture.
Dishes in the sink. Like, my husband and I are both working from home and my kids go through 247 cups a day. There is never a point when someone in this house is not using a dish. Yet I somehow feel like if I go to bed with a sink full of dirty dishes, I'm letting the family down.
It's less about personal insecurities for me than it is about the anxiety that comes with a house seemingly devolving into chaos. I aim for a threshold of "acceptably clean," where the chaos is largely controlled - no shoes, papers, mail, food, clothes, or toys strewn about in shared spaces - but it's still a comfortable place to actually live and function (not magazine-level clean/staged). I can tolerate low levels of chaos; with two working adults and two teens in the house, this is necessary for survival. But when it reaches a point where I become distracted by it, we have to address it, lest I morph into a bouncing ball of anxious irritability.
I'm getting better at enlisting the help of family members, who aren't as bothered by the chaos BUT do appreciate tidy spaces, instead of always putting this on myself. I'm certainly not the one causing all the chaos, and we all benefit from a mostly clean and orderly home. It's nice to be at the point where 1) I know the level of clean I require to feel calm, and 2) I'm able to delegate cleaning responsibilities to family and not feel compelled to take it all on myself. I no longer feel solely responsible for the state of our home, which allows me to let go of that whole house as a "moral reflection" of my fitness as wife/mother. It's a nice place to be, honestly.
I also wrestle with my relationship to clean countertops and straightening couch cushions, which feels very related. I don't think a clear surface or a couch cushion not falling over on itself adds meaningfully to my family's quality of life. (Arguably, with countertops, leaving things out and accessible is MORE functional than putting it all away?) But MY BRAIN does not function as well when there are items scattered everywhere. I tidy both counters and couch cushions every morning as soon as I come downstairs/while the coffee is brewing and it usually doesn't take any more time than that, so it feels like a low investment of time/resources in something that does make me feel calmer and more able to function and thus ready to start the day. But this may be 90 percent social conditioning? It is obviously an exercise in futility because I will be doing it again tomorrow morning? Idk. I think I do it mostly for my own happiness and therefore, it's worth doing. But I also know the idea of someone COMING OVER and seeing messy counters/couch cushions brings on all of my Feelings so clearly it's not just for me. GAH.
Clean floors. My floors are never, ever clean. There are either toys scattered around, or mud or dust or spilled cheerios or one million other things to trip over or crunch under your foot. I absolutely hate it and it makes me feel like my house is such a mess and therefore I am a mess and YET i also hate cleaning them, so it just stays that way. When i walk into someone's house and they have clean floors, it's incredible to me. how do you do it??
OK, so I have my stuff. I love a clean countertop, a made bed, a tidy closet, but I can live with a messy bathroom and a dining room table piled with books/work. Within my family of origin, I was known as the messy one, and I still fall far short of my mother's/sister's standards. And yet, life being life, I'm the person taking care of both of them, in different ways. They are not being punished and I am not being rewarded, the bottom line is that no one can be tidy enough to avoid heartache and no one will ever be messy enough to deserve heartache. None of this matters. So do what makes you happy.
I love having a clean house. I hate the assumption, perceived or otherwise, that it’s MY job to keep it that clean. It enrages me that if someone stops by and the house isn’t clean (which with 3 kids and two working parents, is often)…they are going to look to ME, not my husband, as the slacker. EnRAGES me. My husband often jokes “sounds like you’re mad at society”, but damn straight I am. 🤨
Because as mad as it makes me, there is still a little programmed part of me that feels a twinge when there are dishes in the sink, and crap all over the floor (not literally, but that’s always possible too, lol) and my MIL stops by. I just don’t think my husband even feels a HINT of that. 🤬 #MadAtSociety 😂
Living with chronic illness can mean there are times where even the most basic hygiene tasks can be impossible - brushing your teeth, bathing, etc. In the past I could go weeks without being able to wash my hair and not only does not being well enough to keep clean make you feel bad, it also changes how you look so when you see yourself in a mirror it’s like a visual representation of how bad you feel. For me, being able to feel like I *look* like myself, always has a substantial impact on my quality of life.
Kids' clothes! Making sure they fit, they don't have holes, are clean, etc!
I think packing lunches is a big one! There is enough weird big guilt/morality tied into feeding kids, period, but the added layer of someone else* getting to pass judgement on you feels huge.
*my logical brain knows that our wonderful daycare and preschool teachers probably won't notice or won't care that I'm packing a PB&J for the third day this week, and yet...
Cooking from scratch. Logically, I KNOW it's okay for a meal to just be food, not have complicated steps, or even necessarily good nutritional value. Is your family fed? Okay, good. Right? So, why is it that dinner gives me an existential crisis? I used to dread dinner growing up. The meat was always overcooked, the veggies were canned and waxy, and we circulated about four or five edible but not delicious meals for a good 15 years. I was picky, and I was constantly being scowled at or outright yelled at for not being able to swallow the bone-dry chicken. We never tried anything new. Now I think I flounder in the other direction -- I want dinner to always be beautiful, tasty, and well-rounded. Veggies are fresh. Curry paste is made from scratch. But it's exhausting! I clearly need to bring this up with my therapist.
I need things put back where they belong. I’m always putting stuff away and adjusting the position of things to the “right” spot… even in closets. I need this for my type A sense of order (and not stubbing my toe on sh*t) but it’s definitely backed by the idea that a tidy home is an “acceptable” home.
DUSTING. Which I can almost never bring myself to do. And I'm a big fan of tchotchkes.
Clean countertops are also definitely a thing for me. My mother and in-laws tends to have a lot of clutter on their counters and it always embarrassed me growing up. Having my kitchen island clear of stuff makes me feel calm.
Knowing what I’m making for dinner before 5:30pm. Feeding people seems like such a basic part of the job that when I don’t have a decent meal in mind I feel like I’m messing up. Not a gourmet meal, mind you, just something I know is nutritious and filling. UNRELATED BUT RELATED: Do you remember FlyLady? Her mantra was “clean your sink.” I could go on and on about FlyLady (the publication, not the person) and its connection to momfluencer culture.
Dishes in the sink. Like, my husband and I are both working from home and my kids go through 247 cups a day. There is never a point when someone in this house is not using a dish. Yet I somehow feel like if I go to bed with a sink full of dirty dishes, I'm letting the family down.
It's less about personal insecurities for me than it is about the anxiety that comes with a house seemingly devolving into chaos. I aim for a threshold of "acceptably clean," where the chaos is largely controlled - no shoes, papers, mail, food, clothes, or toys strewn about in shared spaces - but it's still a comfortable place to actually live and function (not magazine-level clean/staged). I can tolerate low levels of chaos; with two working adults and two teens in the house, this is necessary for survival. But when it reaches a point where I become distracted by it, we have to address it, lest I morph into a bouncing ball of anxious irritability.
I'm getting better at enlisting the help of family members, who aren't as bothered by the chaos BUT do appreciate tidy spaces, instead of always putting this on myself. I'm certainly not the one causing all the chaos, and we all benefit from a mostly clean and orderly home. It's nice to be at the point where 1) I know the level of clean I require to feel calm, and 2) I'm able to delegate cleaning responsibilities to family and not feel compelled to take it all on myself. I no longer feel solely responsible for the state of our home, which allows me to let go of that whole house as a "moral reflection" of my fitness as wife/mother. It's a nice place to be, honestly.
Laundry is morally neutral. Thank you for this reminder