I declare today a housecleaning day.
As I sit and rock my baby before naptime, I think of all the things I could/should be doing, like watering the outside plants (after all, my husband has put a lot of time and effort into providing a water spigot and hose in front of the house to allow this), washing up the dishes from last night before the water in the sink gets cold, folding the dried clothes and starting the next load to dry, etc. At the same time I'm hoping I can write a good post today, respond to those comments requiring a response, decipher a lengthy essay by George McDonald, and make enough headway into The Pickwick Papers to determine whether I am going to continue reading or not. Just thinking about this list tells me there is no way I could possibly be bored. Of course the problem is doing very many of these things without exasperating myself or Parker in the process. The amount of attention Parker requires at any given moment drives me to watch television in the late afternoon instead of doing those things that will actually provide a measure of peace.
Instead of sitting here writing, I should be washing dishes right now, or cleaning the bathroom--or something. There is always something.
I require a certain amount of order in my life to maintain sanity. Now that I own my own home (or at least have a financial relationship with a bank that allows me to believe I own my own home) and have a child to care for I find myself compelled to make my bed every morning. There's something about having a made bed that gives everything else in the house a perceived control.
Update:
I didn't wind up getting that much done. What a surprise. Besides making the bed, I caught up on the laundry (washing, drying and folding--no ironing), cleaned the dishes in the kitchen, vacuumed the living room rug, and swept up around the fireplace. I ultimately gave up on Pickwick, and the outside plants remain unwatered. That's actually enough for one day, I suppose, especially considering the stuffy nose that developed mid-afternoon. Parker and I are both suffering from it.
3 comments:
A made bed is one of those unexplainable small pleasures in life. Kind of like laying down in a bed that has been turned down for you.
I've been meaning to tell you that I really like the name of your blog. Very creative and encouraging.
I agree with the made bed idea, although I intentionally do not make the bed (or have my kids make theirs) on Sunday, so as to encourage crawling back in for rest.
Flylady.com, famous for helping homemakers get their houses under control, says that same thing about keeping the kitchen sink empty and shining. She says that everything else starts falling into line after that. She has great ideas, which I may try to use again sometime, but some of it just feels like being a continual servant to my house, which I think is upside down.
Believe it or not, as Parker gets older, if he has a little brother or sister to play with, it can actually get easier. I have an easier time watching 2 or all of my kids, than just one, usually. Just one will hang around incessantly, getting their hands (literally) into whatever I am doing, or keep pestering me about a video or candy. Together, they go off on wild adventures in various corners of the house or yard, which usually does require some clean-up later, but at least I get a chunk of uninterrupted time.
For me, the biggest trials of being a mother are often related to my aversion to noise and interruption. Aaaagh!
I've read that the bed is the "shiny sink of the bedroom." Flylady seems more useful to me now that I have a house instead of an apartment. It's so much easier to clean when all of your stuff isn't sitting out where you can trip over it.
Post a Comment