Keep Calm and Eat Over the Table


Hi, I’m Staci and I like things clean. You do too? Yeah, most people do, but I like things eat off the floor, in perfect order, no germs in sight clean. I see you backing away slowly, smiling. Yeah, I know I’m crazy. But stick with me and try to understand.

I wasn’t always this way, I started to see my need for squeaky clean arise when I became an adult and had my own place. It was an adorable little apartment in a chic neighborhood, close to work and shopping, and I loved it because it was mine. I spent hours decorating, making it look homey and making sure it reflected my tastes. I even found it to be a cozy spot to entertain. But when the entertaining was over, I hated what was left behind and started obsessing about cleaning.

I am very into appearances. Not my appearance, the appearance of my living space. I think you get an immediate sense of how a person expresses him or herself by the colors, décor, placement of objects – call it the creative nut side of me, but I want people to see my uniqueness – not smell it, or have to move things to find it. Yeah, that’s when I realized I have OCD.

But I had it under control. Everyone should be able to tolerate some disarray right? I had hernia surgery while living in that apartment and was told not to do much of anything for a week afterwards. I remember feeling a compulsion to clean up so when friends or family came to check up on me they’d smell the bleachy freshness.  But I couldn’t, believe me I tried, but failed miserably. And I am sure NO ONE noticed. But I noticed. And it pissed me off.

When I met my hubby my OCD was put to the test. Upon entering his bachelor pad on one of our first dates I noted at least twenty OCD infractions in the living room alone. He was a single guy working long hours, not sure what I expected, but I remember wondering how on earth he lived like that. And it wasn’t that bad, I am just bat shit crazy when it comes to cleanliness.

After we got married and (whew) moved into a new house, my husband thought it would be great to get a second dog. Our dog at the time who has since passed away sadly, was a non-shedder, and therefore I was able to live with him. He didn’t make messes. He was perfect. Then came Angus, our beautiful, awesome, mutt who is 120 pounds of perfection too. Well, I think this now. But when we brought him home, I quickly realized that every time he took a step, I could build a new dog with the fur that drifted to my carpet. My spotless carpet. And I knew my hubby had done this on purpose to help with my “problem.” After a couple months it worked, hair barely bothered me at all… (but don’t tell him that).

I had no idea that having kids would take my OCD to another level. The dog hair was the least of my problems, now I had to worry about play areas at fast food restaurants, bounce houses, ball pits, putting everything in mouths…sanitizer became my best friend. And to those moms who pick up a pacifier off the ground and place it back in your child’s mouth after a quick wipe – I solute you. I could never do this.

Now a big five year old, I thought my son knew me well enough to understand that we do not test Mommy’s germ affliction. I was proven wrong this past Christmas when we visited Las Vegas and I reminded him too many times not to touch the escalator railing on the strip and he got fed up and licked it. Licked it. Yup. I didn’t die, I am here to tell the tale, but I think I blacked out for a second.  The worst part is that he didn’t get sick from it and I fear he didn’t learn the lesson. Not that he shouldn’t lick things in public, but that he nearly killed his mother.

I kid, I kid. But I really do need an intervention once in a while. Luckily my family is happy to provide me with that – my slobbery dog, my husband who loves to move the remote so it isn’t perfectly straight just to mess with me, my kids (need I see more). I am doing much better and even kept my hand sanitizer usage to a minimum at Disneyland last week. So, come on over, stay awhile. I am a lot of fun. (You can even pretend you’re at a fancy restaurant when I de-crumb the table).


  1. Ingrid June 7, 2016 Reply
    • Staci June 15, 2016 Reply

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