Mud on my Face

I realized something the other day.  I realized that it had been a really long time since I thought about how unfair, how tragic it is that I don't have a mudroom.  Not too long ago, less than a year, actually, we had contractors coming out to give us bids on building one into our garage.  And we even, ever so briefly, considered  completely reconfiguring our entire main floor to try and fit one into the layout.  I honestly thought that I could not live without one.  I thought about it every day.  All day every day.  But looking back, I realize that I didn't need a mudroom.  What I needed was a plan.

Last fall, early on, like in Sept or so, my mudroom-envy started to rear it's ugly head again.  I knew it was because the boots and snowpants season was right around the corner and if I couldn't handle it with two kids (and a baby in a carrier) I was foreseeing that I wouldn't survive this winter with three fully-booted and -bundled children. 

A friend came over one afternoon and I vented my impending frustration on her listening ear.  I said that we couldn't afford to re-do our entire house to make room for a mudroom and I didn't like the idea of building one in the garage stall.  She asked if we would consider moving.  I said no, we loved our yard and neighborhood.  She thought for a minute and then said, "Well, it looks like you've set it up so that you're unhappy no matter what you do." 

Ouch.  Only, she was right.  Okay, I thought, I cannot spend another winter in agony like last year.  And I can't have exactly what I want.  But I can have a compromise.  So, I searched Craig's List for a bench, bought some pretty hooks and picture frames at Target, and Viola!  A mud area.

I had the kids draw pictures, put them in the frames and hung them above their hooks.  I've always loved displaying their art and this way it helps to remind them whose hook is whose.  It also looks cute.  I hunted for and finally found a rug that I liked and that went with, and protected, our new carpet.  As it came together, it was exactly what I pictured. 

Only, it usually looks like this.  But I'm okay with that.  Surprisingly, okay with that.  The kids almost always put their stuff away.  Even Lily is starting to put her shoes and scarf in her bin.  I like it because it's a place to put all of the winter stuff, and, I like to think, at least, that it looks like it's supposed to be there.  Compared to before, when stuff was hanging on doors, above the basement steps or just thrown on the floor. 

The other day I was talking with a friend (a different friend) who is in the market for a new house.  We were talking about one in the neighborhood that may be going up for sale and she said, "It's just like yours," and then added, in a sheepish voice, "only, it has a mudroom."  I understand why she was afraid to say those words to me, but that's when it hit me.  That's when I realized that I haven't thought about a mudroom in months.  We are halfway through winter, the messiest, snowiest, bootiest winter we've had in years, decades even, and I haven't thought about how lacking my life is without a mudroom.  As a matter of fact, I often find myself looking at my little mud area and thinking how clever of me. 

Now, if only we had a porch.  My life would be so much better, fuller, satisfying if we had a porch.