My house was always clean and tidy growing up.

I’ve come to learn that some people are exceptionally good housekeepers (like my mom) and others are mediocre at best (like me), and that it takes more work for me to keep everything ship shape than I care to admit. I started implementing more systems around the house to help us keep things semi-livable and I gotta say… it’s really working.

But, I no longer pick up toys on the weekends. (And that includes the two week-long weekend we just had called Christmas Break)

From Friday evening when they get home until Sunday night after bedtime, or even Monday morning when they’ve left for daycare, there’s a good chance you need to watch where you step at my house because there could be a block, hockey stick, or a toy car waiting to surprise you. With the exception of hosting guests (and honestly, even then…), I’ve started leaving the toys wherever the kids drop them on weekends. Is it a total disaster? Yes. But, it’s going to be a disaster whether I follow them around cleaning up behind them or I sit back and relax because they’re going to haul those toys right back out and fling them in every direction.

I’m choosing relaxation wherever possible.

Recently, a group of friends dropped by and I confessed to them that I hadn’t cleaned up for two reasons:

1. I love them and consider them family at this point in our relationships, and;
2. Their kids were ALSO going to take out toys and throw them everywhere anyway.

It sparked a great discussion about how the best friends you can have are the ones who you know don’t judge your dusty shelves or fingerprint-covered windows. They’ll load their own dishes in the dishwasher, stepping over a pile of toys or an errant child who’s decided to lie in the middle of the kitchen floor for a moment. They help themselves and they’re there to see you, not take notes on whether your house was spotless.

I’m sure some people will call this “lazy” and that’s fine. I call it preserving energy.

(And I also call it immense fortune to have people who love me so much they don’t give a flying stomp rocket if there’s a pair of socks, a handful of crackers, or 281 toys strewn across the floor.)