Every time I find out that someone is going to even potentially lay their eyeballs on the inside of my house, I erupt into a full-blown panic.
I clean the bathroom surfaces, dump the dishes in the dishwasher, assess our food and beverage situation, shove all miscellaneous items into closets or junk drawers, and yell at my family to not touch anything until company arrives. Basically, I try to make it look like nobody lives in our house.
But what if it didn't have to be that way? Maybe a friend could just text something like, "Hey, I'm going to swing by in two minutes with my entire family. We might stay for a hour, or we might stay for the whole afternoon. See you soon!" And instead of frantically trying to vacuum the floors, I could plop myself on the couch, put my feet up and wait for them to arrive.
That's scruffy hospitality.
It's the idea that even if your home obviously looks ... ahem ... lived-in, you welcome visitors with open arms. It's the "mi casa es su casa," mindset that even if you only have assorted half-full bags of snacks, you are willing to share half of whatever you have with your guests. It's a deeper level of intimacy because you're letting friends into your real real life.
Where did this idea come from?
Ten years ago, an Anglican priest from Knoxville, Tennessee, wrote about the concept of "scruffy hospitality" on his website.
Rev. Jack King and his wife had a system for preparing for company, but they realized the intensity of their prep work (especially when they had two children under the age of 3) often prevented them from inviting people over. There was a gap between "our day-to-day home and the presentable, acceptable-for-hospitality version of our home," he wrote. "Friendship is about preparing a space for authentic conversation. And sometimes authenticity happens when everything is a bit scruffy."
We spent a good bit of 2020 in our homes, and for the first time, our coworkers were able to get a sneak peek (via Zoom) of our living spaces. In some ways, that placed more importance on our "background" (thanks a lot, Room Rater), but it also forced us to be flexible when an errant toddler strutted into that Very Important Meeting you had with your Big Boss.
Even so, we turned to social media influencers in the years that followed to get our hit of idyllic homemaking, even though it really made our feeling of not-good-enough-ness skyrocket.
But finally, in 2023, parents not only invited friends into their messy homes, but actually gave tours of the chaos on TikTok. Some parents who are tired of social media perfection are beginning to embrace the chaos of a home that actually looks lived-in.
Shouldn't we all be doing the same?
Prepare to get scruffy
I chatted with Smita Parikh, co-founder of organization company The Thoughtful Home, half expecting her to say that decanting my groceries is the answer to all of life's problems.
Instead she told me, "We should be proud of our home no matter what state it's in. I'm a professional organizer and my house doesn't look pristine. I have two boys and a dog. There's stuff everywhere." Even when she does a "reset," the house looks good for five minutes "and then chaos hits again, but I'm not embarrassed to have people over."
Parikh discussed ways she has helped prepare clients for scruffy hospitality by automating systems in their home. For example, she said, you can have a caddy of paper plates and plastic utensils that you can quickly pull out if someone drops by. You can clearly designate spots for all your "stuff" so that friends and family can help themselves to food and drink — or help you do a quick cleanup at the end of the night. Doing so will eliminate the stress of "host" duties.
In addition to logistics, mindset is essential to accepting scruffy hospitality as our new normal.
Mom coach Stephanie Rosenfield told me we need to banish the idea that a messy house means we're "failing" at parenthood. "Often times when we talk about mess, we’re talking about 'stuff,' but part of having a family is having 'stuff,'" she said. "'Stuff' shows that a home has been well-loved."
As parents, we're bound to have stacks of homework, folded-but-not-put-away laundry and LEGOs everywhere. And often, when guests see those things, instead of clutching their pearls about the mess, Rosenfield said, "they feel better. They feel a sense of camaraderie, that we're in this together."
"Life is a beautiful mess"
Tyler Moore is a seventh grade math teacher better known as @TidyDad on Instagram. He, his wife and their three daughters live in a railroad apartment in Queens, New York. The importance of having visitors isn't about seeing vacuum lines on your rug. It's about "the love and memories and feeling you want your guests to have," he says. "Life is a beautiful mess."
To make gatherings special, the family uses their heirloom china for the girls' birthday parties. They'd rather use it than leave it in pristine condition in a closet. "If it breaks, it breaks," he told me. "But it hasn't broken yet." He suggested that the only things we really need to host visitors are "simple bursts of joy" that include "something for the kids to do, a sweet treat and maybe beverages for the adults."
There is one thing Moore cleans before guests come over, however. And that thing is the toilet.
"Everything else is forgivable," he laughed.
So, could I embrace scruffy hospitality? Could I invite friends over knowing that last night's dishes are still in the sink, there's a pile of stuffed animals on the couch and we may have to order pizza because there's no food in the house?
I'm not sure. But I really want to try. (And if I do, please don't judge!)
