“You should see my house” has been my compliment comeback of choice for some time now because first, it’s true–some area of my house is, at any given moment, likely to be in shambles–and secondly, I’ve wrongly assumed you’re always supposed to shoot back compliments with some stupid self-deprecating statement. Just because someone tells you they like your dress doesn’t mean you have to cancel it out with how disgusting your kitchen counter looks. It’s okay to own a compliment and not everyone needs to be spoonfed the fact that if a woman is pulling it off in one area, there’s another area falling apart. I’m now assuming this is a given, and from this day forth, any success in my life comes with the disclaimer that somewhere, something looks like hell. And if, by chance, it doesn’t, don’t say anything ‘cuz, God forbid, you’ll jinx a miracle.

The thing is, I’m not a good housekeeper, and snapping back with a forced laugh and a “you should see my house” is getting old. I’m tired of using heaps of wrinkled laundry for toss pillows and tripping over doctor kit pieces scattered like shrapnel across my living room floor. And I’m ready, when complimented on my red dress, to smile and reply simply, “Why, thank you. Red’s my favorite color.”

But the house thing has gotta change. Over Christmas break, our neighbors came over and, while I tried the old company stand-by of room spray, candles and a lot of closed doors, their kid ran into our bedroom. I’m pretty cool with being up front that I’m not the Type A Cleaner, but we’re still in the first impression stage with these neighbors and I wasn’t ready for full disclosure or the explanation that our room is where we dump every pile that doesn’t have a place two hours before company comes. You have to desensitize cool neighbors first–with my buffalo chicken dip and free beer and our whole hey-we’re-really-cool-friends act, and we hadn’t quite yet sold them for the second stage of here’s-who-we-really-are. …pigs.

So, I run to close the door and shoo kids before anyone sees, but it was too late. Cool Neighbor Friend Dad walks in and, swear to God, couldn’t hide the horror. If I recall, it went something like “Holy S@#t, what happened?” And I honestly considered two lies. One: We’re moving. Two: We were robbed. Instead, I bailed. Ran out of the room in embarrassment without any explanation and, from another room, called my friend Laura laughing so hard, I couldn’t spit out the punchline…the “Holy S@#t, what happened?” part.

And I say this all for two reasons. It might look from the blog like we get a lot done and I craft and I bake and take pictures of spring cupcakes, and yes that might be good and inspiring, but there’s always not-so-fun stuff that gets left out here. Cleaning house is one of many. But also, sometimes writing about something helps me overcome it, and it feels good in that proclaiming-New-Year’s-resolution way to publicly sign a declaration of Hey, I have a problem and Hey, I wanna fix it.

I will never regret letting the house go to spend important time with my kids and that will never change. I couldn’t care about fingerprints on windows if I tried (in fact, I kinda like them). But, there has to be a happy medium, and a love seat slip cover made of wrinkled t-shirts is not it. I’m confident in the fact my kids will grow up in a relaxed environment knowing we chose Candyland over dishes, but I also want them to feel the security and comfort that comes from order and the beauty of aesthetics. Besides, clutter in the home inevitably interprets to clutter in the mind, and I’m a better mama when I make efforts to avoid chaos and attempt simplicity.

So, I’m going to try really hard to change this problem. This week, I’m weeding out, tidying up, and reorganizing some priorities. For my family, for my kids, but mostly for me. Because I’m really good with new challenges.

But oh, you should see my house.

* And the best part about cleaning house is rewarding yourself afterward. Try an antiqued mirror, a vintage inspired soap for your guest bathroom, or some pretty glass milk bottles for displaying spring blooms from sponsor, Timeless Settings.

And the gift certificate winner for Tahnie’s Stella and Dot shop is Comment #54, Jen Green:

1. Silly easter hats that I loved…they were hideous
2. The one year I got an easter basket
3. The first sunburn from a spring soccer tournament and going to church with crazy burn lines.
4. Smell of lilacs
5. Washington states spring rain showers…nothing compares to the smell.

Jen, e-mail your info please to kellehamptonblog@comcast.net. Thanks!

Happy Monday.

Totally loved the last batch of comments and laughed at how many people share a CD destroying past and fear of cops. For all of you, I will make up for the past and have a ceremonious blasting of speakers today while I clean house. Ace of Base, Baby. Just because “all that she wants is another baby” doesn’t mean she’s goin’ to hell.

It feels like Spring here. Like Warm and Cool have exchanged vows in a beautiful blue-skied ceremony and have brought forth a love child who dwells right here, right now. She is splendid, this love child, and she brings with her breezes that send our curtains fluttering and call the babies outside.

The garden I thought was a lost cause has suddenly been born again or, as Brett says, “goin’ nuts,” and I’m in a rare mood to plunge my hands into sudsy buckets and slop wet rags along floors and base boards and clean some house.

And since most of the country still has a snowy hump to summit before surveying blue skies and blooming crocus, I will bring you Spring. I’m a good sharer, so you can have some of ours.

I remember two main times in my life when I think of Spring. One was about seven years old. I remember our neighborhood, the kids who thought 55 degrees meant shorts and jellyshoes and the adults who washed their cars in their driveway when you could still see your breath. I remember picking out Easter dresses, new white tights and black patent leather shoes I’d lose a week later.

The other memories are much clearer as it was more recent. I lived with my grandparents when I attended college. In a small blue house on Dorothy Lane in a town known for two things–its Free Methodist church and its Free Methodist college. The juxtaposition of a young girl trying to find her place in the world living with her eighty-some-year-old grandparents very secure with theirs was interesting and made for a very enlightening, nostalgic and sculpting-of-the-soul experience. Regardless, I’ll never forget a Spring Arbor, Michigan Spring. How the amaryllis my dad gave my grandma every Christmas finally bloomed and how my grandma would call him up to tell him. How snow melting off the deck swing meant it was time to tidy up, pull the grill out, place pads on outdoor chairs. I remember bright yellow forsythia blooms were the first to show their colors against the gray leftovers of winter and how they signaled yard work and longer walks with Koko, the one-eyed cocker spaniel. Spring meant a good cleaning–the smell of Barkeeper’s Friend, a glossy finish on the gold linoleum, a switch-out of grandkids’ pictures in frames. Spring meant I’d attempt to clean all the crap that had multiplied over winter in the back seat of my teal Ford Escort wagon with the duct-taped fender (a.k.a. “The Staysh”) because it was the one thing I owned and cleaning it gave me a sense of control even though it didn’t really matter if it was clean or not. I mean, come on. It had a duct-taped fender and the passenger door didn’t open because I ran that side of the car into a tree which is a moot point, but still.

And now, I merge the past with the present in my love of Spring. I plan my girls’ Easter dresses, search out some good jelly shoes, and slip a can of Barkeeper’s Friend in my grocery cart…for old time’s sake.

Behold, I bring you Springish things we’re loving. A sneak preview of things to come your way.

Pastels

Easter gloves for Dress-up

Apple Blossom Candles

Mirror Makeover

Once dull and goldish and unnoticeable. Now red and vibrant and happy. Brett said yesterday, “What are you doing to our house? You’re, like, spraypainting every day.” And, as my friend Nadya coined, “I’m debeigeifying,” I tell him. Important in homes just as it is in our personalities. Debeigeify. Color it up, Dude.

Besides, red looks really nice with our $10 blue tablecloth.

I know, the creases. Iron, much?

I’ll have you know the inspiration I got from setting that table yesterday fueled me to clean the bejesus out of my kitchen.

Reemergence of Vibrant Clogs

I dug out the hot pink clogs I bought five years ago and have only worn maybe three times. That’s about to change.

And pink clogs plus pink skirt plus pink bike screams pink in a way that says “Hey, I’m high on life, how ’bout you?”…which is how I like to greet people anyway, so it works out great that I get to save my voice.

Bare Feet

Swimsuits

And Flower Cupcakes served with Butterfly Napkins

And if that wasn’t enough to carry some Spring over to your weekend, then how’s about a Pre-Spring giveaway?

New Sponsor, Tahnie Woodward and her Stella & Dot shop are climbing aboard the sidebar, and we’re loving everything her shop has to offer. After you order, shoot her an e-mail (tahnie@gmail.com), and she’ll refund you 10% off.

Favorites?

These badass spring green earrings. Long and dangly and very catch-your-eye but still comfortable. I’m in love.

…and a whole line of Little Girl jewelry. Lainey loves her new necklace, the Little Charlotte (and the pretty canister it came in that’s now home to one Laffy Taffy, three Squinkies, a barette, a lipgloss and a fuzzy Dora sticker that lost its stick).

she’s wearing Nella’s size 3 month vest too. Ha.

A random comment will be selected to win a $40 gift certificate, provided by Tahnie, to her Stella & Dot shop. So tell me five of your favorite past spring memories. Did you make kite collages in kindergarten or chart your In-like-a-lion and In-like-a-lamb predictions for March 1st? Did you convince your mom to buy you one of those silly broad-brimmed lavender Easter hats or shape rice crispy treats into bunnies and chicks? Do tell.

Now pardon me, I have some Ace of Base calling for a dance with the mop.