Ahhh..... the best laid plans of mice and mommies. I've learned the hard way how not to be structured. I thrive on a thoroughly planned schedule. I am happiest in a clean house. I had decisions to make-- do I make everyone's lives (including my own) a complete hell by forcing the better of my inclinations or do I wait until the time when I don't have a clingy baby, or I've had more than two consecutive nights of 8 hours of sleep in over eleven years, or when they are old enough to be helpful. Admittedly, no one needs to follow my pattern of completely giving up (except when company's expected), but there are happy mediums. Oh, and I remember the days I could do it all in one day. I think that's what finally finished me off. 30 loads of laundry-- and that's nothing fancy. Dishes three times a day. Two levels. See, it looks like I'm complaining and justifying. I probably am. After all, they're my kids and I happily had them.
I think part of my problem is that I'm still anal enough to want what does get done accomplished in a certain manner. I just did it all myself until it was apparent that I couldn't do it anymore. Then I asked Dan to help. While I adore the man and he is incredibly helpful around the house, he still retains some vestiges of a previous era. He passed the buck to the two oldest. He was probably right, but there was no training involved. Now the plates are shoved helter skelter into their place. Cups are stacked without care to the best positioning and matching styles. Bowls are thrown into their cupboard. Silverware.... eh, that's actually not bad. The table gets "washed" less frequently that could be desired. And I guess this is one of my downfalls as a parent. I just expected that the correct way (and yes, this would be MY way) would be apparent. Really, if you'd never seen any other way of stacking plates, wouldn't you automatically stack them that way?! But then you can read and reason. My children, raised in a barn as they are, love the splendor of chaos. And I'm becoming accustomed to it's charms.
So, for all those who look at my house and cringe and wonder if I do indeed own a broom (yes, I do. I'm just waiting for someone else to sweep), I apologize. I have surrendered to the natural man in me.
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2 comments:
My new philosophy is to care more about what my family thinks and less about what everyone else thinks. That usually means my house looks like a tornado hit it. If it bothers my husband, he can help clean it. :)
I'm so sorry I brought that on Jill. But if it helps, you are not alone. Love you guys. Give the kids a squeeze.
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