Marie Kondo’s latest revelation provides parents validation

Few events are as life-altering, as seismic, as the birth of a child. All at once, our focus changes, our sleep habits evolve, and our dreams move into the sphere of the practical. It has always been thus, and I suspect this truth will hold for generations to come.

As my adult children build their families, I enjoy observing the transformation. I liken it, not very originally, to a metamorphosis. Without exception, each of them has realized that child-rearing is one of the hardest challenges they will face, if not THE hardest. They recognize that life can turn chaotic with a kid and that a messy house is not necessarily a reflection of their character or worth.

So, I chuckled with disproportionate glee when I read about Marie Kondo — the maven of clean, the queen of tidy, the empress of neat — admitting children have crimped her style. Kid No. 3 apparently tipped the scales. Her orderly house isn’t as orderly as it used to be.

“I have kind of given up on that in a good way for me,” she announced. “Now I realize what is important to me is enjoying spending time with my children at home.”

Oh, Marie, it happens to the best of us.

In case you don’t know, Kondo is the author of a hugely popular self-help book appropriately titled, “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing.” She’s built an empire with her KonMari method, which advocates we toss out anything that doesn’t “spark joy.” The method sounds simple, but for us lesser mortals can be difficult to execute. It’s amazing how ridiculously attached we get to our stuff.

Anyway.

Not unexpectedly, Kondo’s admission made headlines, kindling all kinds of comments on social media channels. There were plenty of I-told-you-so feelings. Because when you’re reminded that your domestic skills are not up to snuff — and really, whose are? — you get defensive. As a result, joy-sparking was more of an anger-flaring for some.

Filmmaker Sarah Polley is an example. On Twitter she wrote: “Where is the official apology to those of us who she influenced to make our clothes into little envelopes when we HAD three children!”

Resentful much?

The reaction to Kondo’s latest, however, also carried a cocktail of relief and validation. At last, the woman who made decluttering a kind of religious experience knows what it’s really like for parents everywhere. (Unless, of course, you’re wealthy, with a staff to wrangle the mess.)

Think: The piles of laundry. The pyramid of shoes at the front entrance. The school papers on the dining room table. The stack of dishes in the sink since morning. The food wrappers on the floor of the minivan. The perpetually disorganized closet regardless of how many dividers and crates, baskets and bins you purchase.

This is life with children, unrelenting but also glorious. I write “glorious” with intention and nostalgia because as an empty-nester my house sometimes feels too silent, too empty, too lacking.

Several weeks ago, my youngest son, a new father, remarked how keeping the house tidy was proving to be a Sisyphean task. How could such a little person, a newbie to the very American practice of owning too much, end up with so much stuff? And that stuff was all over the place too. On FaceTime, he took me on a tour of toys, mats, pacifiers, onesies, burp cloths, books, carriers, a swing and stroller, crib and bassinet.

“Welcome to the clutter and chaos of parenthood.” I said, and wished that I could reach through the miles separating us to console him with a pat on the back.

Ana Veciana-Suarez writes about family and social issues. Email her at avecianasuarez@gmail.com or visit her website anavecianasuarez.com. Follow @AnaVeciana.