Forever and always I am trying to wrap my head around how to keep my household in order and my children occupied, all while maintaining my own sanity as a rage-er. Today I have chosen to let them watch endless amounts of television so I can catch up.
The floor is sticky, the cabinets are grimy, my counters are cluttered, and there is dust and dog hair everywhere. I didn’t clean much the last two weeks, but boy did my kids feel loved and paid attention to! How do people do both? I just don’t get it.
Just as I was getting the kitchen cleaned up from breakfast, the kids came upstairs between shows to get a snack. Instantly I was on edge because they were grabbing, knocking, pulling, dumping, and pretty much undoing everything I had just done. I handed out snacks, kissed them with forced pleasantness, and sent them back downstairs to watch t.v. When I surveyed the damage done in under ten minutes I became discouraged at having to re-clean almost half of what I had just cleaned.
I don’t think my kids are particularly rambunctious – they have your average dose of curiosity about what is in that cup or under that pot lid or sticking out of the dishwasher, and in their clumsy curiosity spills and messes happen. I don’t even have high standards for what my house should look like. Usually I find a little dust here and a little clutter there can easily be justified as defining a ‘homey’ look….
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Okay, I wrote all that this morning when I was feeling super duper frustrated, and now that the kids are napping and my house is clean I’m not feeling so frustrated. But my kids DID watch t.v. all morning, which I hate, but I hate it less than screaming at them all morning because they are so needy for me I can’t even vacuum a rug without someone hanging on my leg.
So I don’t know what the solution is, or even if there is one. Maybe I will just make Mondays a t.v. and pajama day so I can clean the house in peace. We usually don’t go anywhere after a busy weekend anyway. The only other idea I keep toying with is hiring a cleaning lady to come twice a month, which seems decadent but more like a sign of failure – it’s nice to think about letting somebody else clean my nasty toilet, but it also makes me wonder what in the world am I doing with my time all day if not cleaning the toilet?
My rational, well-adjusted voice tells me that This Too Shall Pass, and that these early years are just more difficult when the little ones are under foot all the time. And then I remember that Ruthie will go to preschool three mornings a week next fall, leaving me with plenty of time to get things done with just Thomas, who seems to more easily entertain himself. Now that I think about it, I believe this was part of my justification for having children so close in age – knowing that it will be hell at first, but then I get it all over with after just a few years.
Okay. I have just ‘talked’ myself out of a deep hole of despair, and I didn’t even need a drink to get me through it.
Did I mention that I love the Internet?
Thank you for listening.