This is not a sign you'll see on my car :)
Shhhhh. I'm going to tell you a secret. And you have to promise you won't tell anyone else. You know, it's just between me, you and anyone else reading this.
I'm a car pig.
Oh, I know it's shocking. I mean, anyone who has seen my house knows my house is clean. I mean, I'm not a freak about it, but I really, really like my house to be neat. I don't like dishes sitting in the sink. I don't like my shampoo and conditioner bottles to sit on the shower floor. They must be in the shampoo holder and they are neatly aligned, left to right in order of use. And I don't like it when my husband gets them out of order.
OK, fine. I might be a freak.
My bed is made the same way every day and I don't like it if the comforter is not perfectly balanced so both sides are symmetrical. My dogs' bowls are scoured every day. My bathroom sink is wiped down every morning and there are never, ever any clothes on my floor. My laundry room is completely free of folded laundry, because as soon as I fold, I tuck it away into the closet or dressers.
My car, on the other hand, is a completely different story.
Let's put it this way: my father once told me if a catastrophe occurred, he would drive the 1500 miles from his home to mine so he could stay with me. He said if we just lived in my car, we could survive for a year on leftovers from under the seat.
OK, seriously? I'm not that bad. I mean, I do routinely allow my dogs to ride in the car and they pretty much get all the squished fries up (yes, that's a joke). And sure, my husband once threatened to paint my car the same color as our trashcans (blue) and leave it on the curb on trash day so the garbage company would empty it once a week (sadly, not a joke, he did threaten to do that).
And yes, when my son was young, the odor of milk emanated from the Sippy cups that were rolling around. And maybe, just maybe, when I worked full-time, you might have found a few fast food wrappers living in the glove box. And today, when I went out to the car to research this story I did find 5 half-empty water bottles in the car, along with numerous receipts, an oil change coupon and two pairs of capris I meant to return last summer.
Oh, fine. You're right. I'm a car pig. And a neat freak.
I don't know how I am both all rolled up into one chubby, suburban mommy package, but here I am. A neat freak in the house. A pig in the car. It's like one of those mysteries wrapped in an enigma. Or, if you prefer, a neat freak wrapped in a discarded hamburger wrapper. Whatever it is, it's just me. Your average, everyday, messy neat freak.
Laurie Sontag is a parenting guru who is navigating the wild waters of her son's teenage years by hiding in her closet waiting for it to be over. You can read more of her work at her blog, Manic Motherhood, and follow her on Twitter/manicmotherhood and Facebook/manicmotherhood.