This is not my bathroom. It is EmersonMade’s, via Design*Sponge.
“Pride is a vice, which pride itself inclines every man to find in others, and to overlook in himself”
I love being self-sufficient.
I love being in control of things.
I want people to think I have my act together- finances in perfect order, house spotless and efficiently organized. This, however, is patently false. And I have never been more aware of how NOT together I have things than yesterday morning, when my Gramma came to clean my bathrooms. Let me tell you, for someone who has not experienced having anyone besides myself actually see how messy our bathrooms get (and having not cleaned them in AHEM a while), it put some major dents in my pride. Why yes, there is hair in the shower, and toothpaste stains on the cup, and the mirror is filthy, and I don’t know where the toilet brush is right now. (I’ll stop there, because God is still working on my pride right now and I’m just not ready to be that honest with the entire internet.) And Gramma cleaned them FOR HOURS. Those bathrooms have not been cleaned like that in at least five years. (We’ve lived here for 3.) They are shining, spotless monuments to my inability to do it all.
Throughout this pregnancy, I’ve still been trying to keep up my I-can-do-and-be-it-all front- and now, in one doctor visit, that has come to a screeching halt. I cannot clean my own bathrooms, which means one of two things: either I let them get more and more disgusting over the next few months until I can do it myself, or I relinquish my hold on my pride and ask for help. And have clean bathrooms.