What is your Deepest, Darkest, Most Embarrassing Secret as a Slob Blogger?


I was recently asked this question: What is your deepest, most embarrassing secret as a “Slob Blogger”?

My basic, says-everything-I-need-to-say answer: It’s all embarrassing!

I was already planning to write this post, but then last night I was given the gift of new and fresh examples.

My plan for the next three weeks (leading up to the release of my book on Nov 8) is to do live video on Facebook sharing decluttering tips, with the goal of letting as many people as possible know about the bonuses available for those who pre-order.

Facebook Live video

Last night, I did not feel like sticking a camera in front of my very tired face, but I did it. It was going well, and then something strange started happening.

People from my “real” life started joining the video. It’s overwhelming to see the little notes and notices that FB gives you while you’re trying to talk, but my brain was able to register the fact that quite a few people from my real life world were watching. A friend I worked with when I taught overseas. A friend from church.

My sister-in-law. 

And I started to freak out that maybe I had gone live on my personal account rather than on the blog’s page.

Thankfully, those who were watching talked me down from the panic, but it was still weird. Very, very weird.

When I started A Slob Comes Clean in 2009, I had no intention of anyone I knew finding out about it. I didn’t even tell my husband what I was doing.

I made up a fake name (Nony is short for aNONYmous) and set up a new email address so no one could ever trace the embarrassing pictures back to me.

Embarrassing pictures like the one at the top of this post.

Almost 8 years later, I still cringe when I post a photo of a space I’m tackling because it is messy yet again.

I still squeeze my eyes almost closed and turn my face away when I realize someone I know reads my blog. Yes. Like a child who hopes that by closing her eyes, she won’t get caught.

I feel the need to be clear for those who understandably assume I’m proud of being a slob. I’m not proud of it.

It’s a struggle. It’s embarrassing to admit that this stuff requires so much THINKING on my part when it seems to come naturally to the rest of the world.

But I’ve realized I am most definitely not alone in these struggles.

And most of all, I have real hope to share from the principles I’ve learned and the strategies I’ve developed through my own process of getting my home under control.

I’m committed to being the Mama Bear Slob, fighting to get you access to the help and hope you need, even though it means that guy from my workout group stumbles upon the deep dark secret that I’d never in a million years mention while doing squats at 5 a.m.

So, what is the deepest, darkest secret? That I’m not perfect, and I never will be.

But once I say it, I see how ridiculous that statement actually is, and how not-helpful-at-all it is to keep it a secret.

Because only through admitting how bad things really were can I also share the reality of hope that things can change.

That a messy home can get better.

Only by admitting that I still struggle can I let others know there’s a reason to keep going after the thirty-seventh failure.

That there are ways to manage your home without losing your mind, even for people like me.

Speaking of, you should totally order my book: How to Manage Your Home Without Losing Your Mind.




Another Favorite Delusion: Tomorrow, I’ll Be a Potato Farmer

I love a good delusion!

Oh my word, y’all.

I abound with delusions. All sorts of them. Someday, I’ll be crafty, efficient, excited to exercise, and who knows what else.

When these potatoes started sprouting, it seemed like a great idea to hold onto them and start potato farming. I mean, I saw an instructional video years ago that sounded like it was super easy and all you needed was a trash can and some dirt. (At least that’s what I remember.)

My 10 year old (she was only 9 at the time) daughter was all for it. We researched, we dreamed, and we considered.

But we didn’t actually do anything. 

Making a potato farm out of old tires sounded fun. We kept dreaming and planning.

And then, the very next week on the way to the lake, we had TWO flat tires on our boat trailer!!! What luck!

Yay for us, the members of Future Potato Farmers of America, not so much for Daddy who had to change both flats and then buy and install new tires.

With the (totally rotten) spare, we had three tires to build our potato-growing contraption. But we couldn’t do it right then, because there was no room in the Suburban to actually haul them back home.

And then I never thought about our Potato Passion again.

Until my Slob Vision cleared on a day spent deep cleaning and I saw that the cute little sprouties of a few months ago had turned into alienish growths of terror.

And I gave up.

Goodbye, endless free potatoes.

Goodbye, dreams.

Goodbye, delusion.

I’m happy to do my part to support Real Potato Farmers. Besides, I learned we don’t eat as many potatoes as I thought we did. The bag of potatoes on the shelf below was scarily sprouted as well.

They all went in the trash.


Supporting My Local Library (With My Fines)

Supporting My Local Library (With My Fines) at

If you’ve been around a while, you know I have a fear of public libraries. Not of what they are, but of my own tendency to lose books or forget to return them for weeks months years on end.

But as I worked on my book manuscript over the past few months, my feelings of dread were mostly replaced with warm-fuzzies.

Y’all, when you need a place to work without distraction and without feeling obligated to buy really expensive cups of coffee, the local library is the perfect place to go. I spent day after day in ours.

So many days that I finally took a big risk and checked out a book for my son. He wanted to read it, but was way down the list to check it out at his school library.

I shoved down my panic, knowing I was coming every single day and that my chances of remembering to return this book were significantly higher than usual.

I walked to the Counter of Shame and told them I was sure I had a fine.

I did.

It was $25.

img Supporting My Local Library (With My Fines) at

A sufficiently embarrassing fine, don’t ya think? And yet, still, I felt warm fuzzies.

All that time in the library let me see how vital it is for our community. How vital it is for every community. I didn’t even know we had homeless people in our town, but we do. They get warm and spend time learning and bettering themselves every single day in the library.

As someone who has an Internet Presence, I forget there are those who don’t have access to the internet. But I saw people, young and old, in the library everyday, using the computers to take classes and apply for jobs and improve their lives.

I also know that as a young mom in a new town, the first friends I made were the ones I met at preschool storytime. (Though I purposefully avoided those noisy times when working on my book.)

I know. I’m mostly just getting sentimental. But even though I didn’t like writing a check for $25 to pay fines on things that could have been free, I was happy that the money was going for a very good cause. A cause I had personally benefited from for months.

Not that I’ve decided I can afford library books after all. I really can’t. I stopped checking out books for my son a few weeks before my manuscript was due because I couldn’t be ABSOLUTELY sure I’d be there every single day when he was done with it.

And I’m most excited that I can now check out books on my Kindle since I’m fine-free. You can’t even check out Kindle books if your KIDS have fines. Kindle books don’t get late fines, they just disappear from your Kindle!!

I am hoping that my future financial support will come from donations of books for their annual book sale. That sounds much better than $25 fines, don’t you think?

Supporting My Local Library (With My Fines) pin at


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