For me, this post is a tough one to write. It is raw and real. It is airing my dirty laundry – waving it for all to see. It is out with the excuses, in with the ugly truth.
It is time to list the shortcomings of this home, and for this, I need to tread with caution. I need to be gentle with myself. I must write this list with grace and love, with patience and kindness. I will write this list by myself – no need risk my kids seeing this as a negative. I need to write this list with anticipation, because this is my first step towards rehabilitation.
This is a list of what is not working
- The clutter in our home. There are things everywhere. Everywhere. Under foot, under bed, under piles.
- The excess of projects. There are baby books to make, school papers to sort, holiday decorations to be packed away in the attic. Not only do these projects take physical space, but they take mental space. They exhaust me.
- The expectation of being cleaned after. The other day, #2 was chewing something that he apparently did not like. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him grab that bite out of his mouth, and toss it on the floor under the kitchen table. On the floor. Whether he assumed I would clean it up, or didn’t even entertain the thought of it being cleaned at all, I was flabbergasted.
- My anger, resentment, and outbursts about out home. I live with it, notice it (usually after tripping on a pile on the staircase, or stepping on a strawberry on the kitchen floor), then react with anger and bitterness. It is unfair of me, and my kids pay the price for my lack of intentional living.
- The time spent on “cleaning”. Realistically, I spend many, many hours a day cleaning, picking up, etc. HOURS people. It is inefficient, it is unacceptable.
- The isolation. My mind is dancing with plans for get-togethers, book clubs, playdates, and barbeques. Yet, they never come to fruition because it just seems like too much. I don’t want them over until my home is acceptable, and since it will never be acceptable, it simply doesn’t happen. I return to my standby, “let’s meet at a park!” instead.