You’ve got to be kidding me.
How to I put this politely? Unless you’re a courier bringing me something lovely, DO NOT CALL AROUND TO MY HOUSE.
I’ve always been a bit all or nothing. I’m either irritated by the fact that all my knives aren’t the exact same, or I’m fishing McDonald’s cups out of my car with no real idea how long they’ve been in there. I’ve often said that I’m great at keeping communal spaces clean and tidy, and therefore made a great housemate over the years. But it’s a different story when it comes to my own bedroom, handbag, car and workspace. They’re, eh, characterful? Hey, I’m a busy woman. I don’t have time for things like throwing out receipts and deciding which of these 17 lipsticks I could probably leave at home next time.
When people come to my house, I like them to get Type A Laura; the one who can offer them the exact alcoholic beverage I know they like with accompanying preferred snacks. The one who lit candles earlier on that day so her house smells fab. I do NOT want them to be greeted by the Laura who wonders why her hand is wet after fishing the remote control out from the couch cushions. (Seriously, what was that?)
In short, the idea of someone arriving at my gaff unannounced gives me the ick. If they attempted it when I’d just had a baby? Good luck, pal. I would have had no hesitation in telling them to go away, even if there wasn’t a pandemic happening.
US producer Kathy Gulinello recently put pen to paper (fingers to keyboard?) to tell the world that we should ‘normalise the drop-by‘ and honestly, I’m triggered. Explaining what she at least admitted is an unpopular opinion, she said: “I am five weeks into motherhood and I am loving the friends and family baby visits… I’ve found these visits to be utterly wonderful, sanity fostering, and liberating for my type-A personality.”
What? How?
Describing how different the experience of visitors used to be for her, when she had advance warning, she said: “I was known as an entertainer, using any excuse to fill up my home with people and lay out a giant spread of food and signature cocktails. The good people at Pinterest must assume I am a caterer the way I hoard hors d’oeuvres recipes. But planning, executing, and paying for my hosting habit, let alone having to clean up before and after, wears a little thin on even the biggest Martha Stewart-wannabes amongst us. In fact, most of my friends opt to never have people over because it takes too much time, money, and effort.”
Ok, fine. She may have a point.
She went on to explain that, if she was waiting for perfection to invite guests over the last while, she wouldn’t have had any. “Being pregnant and isolated in the pandemic gave me a glimpse of what that looks like, and spoiler alert … it’s lonely. Then, when my baby was born, the vaccines were accessible and Covid numbers dropping, my doorbell started ringing again and texts chirped on my phone from people offering to drop by with food, supplies, and some much needed conversation. I forced myself to say “yes” even if the counter was cluttered, or there were dishes in the sink. I said, ‘come by whenever’, even if there was nothing fancy to serve in the fridge.
“The pressure was off, and it ushered in a delightful pendulum swing bringing friendly faces to my door and filling my home with conversation and laughter. My baby visits have freed me from having to “host,” and it changed everything. Suddenly, I no longer felt obligated to clean the house within an inch of its life, cook a meal, or even put on makeup when someone is coming over. No one was going to give me a bad Yelp review! And, like the liberating Sheryl Sandberg expression, ‘done is better than perfect’, a ‘drop by’ was better than the ubiquitous-yet-rarely-actualised promise of ‘we should get together soon’.”
I’m reluctant to admit that a lot of this makes sense, but the part that really got me thinking was when she said: ‘The bonus is that my kid’s village is forming…’ Oof. As a parent to a one-year-old, I felt that to my core. As I sit here in my messy kitchen, looking at the clothes horse full of babygrows (thanks, Irish summer) and the empty coffee cups piled by the sink, I’m starting to think it’s not that bad. Does anybody really expect a single working mother to have a pristine house? And is a little mess a big enough reason to not have a house filled with friends?
You win this round, Kathy Gulinello.
