Monday, December 28, 2015

The Story of Nothing Is Clean

Sometimes I look at my house and realize nothing is clean. Actually, this probably happens once a day. If not twice.

I used to be able to get everything done at once. At least to my comfort level. Dishes cleaned. Vaccumed. A bit of time for myself, for knitting. Laundry done and put away. And bedsheets changed, pillows rotated. Things felt in order. I like how it feels when things are put up where they belong.

This month I've been wondering what is wrong with me. Why do things have to feel like they are clean and organized? Why when the dishes are not done and the laundry is in a two day pileup and my baby is crying do I feel as if the world has ended?

Do other moms feel this way?

Many times when Brian is holding Reuben I will do the dishes. When they are done I will feel as if things are put right. A sense of calm will descend on me. I think to myself "well, at least now I've accomplished something today."

As if clothing and soothing and feeding a small baby with my body isn't "doing something". As if changing and tickling and loving Reuben isn't enough.

This must be a human thing.

Before baby I had a lot of time to waste. I had more time to clean, as well. Now sometimes it's like I'm juggling. The balls in the air are all chores, and the ball for free time never seems to come around. I think sometimes I'm drowning. But the day always comes in the morning and breakfast always needs to be made and dishes always need to be done again and

Life can be overwhelming at times.

We are in the middle of setting up Reuben a nursery, and my house is in a state of chaos it has not been in since we bought him home and all this started. I don't know why but the fact that our normally clean back splash looks like this has been a source of a few fights between me and my husband. It's his things, from a engineering project he started a few months ago as well as bread machine stuff and a few purchases he bought for another computer project and tools because we are dismantling a whole room and rotating house. It's just piled up and it is literally driving me crazy.

I want to clean it. He has asked me not to, several times, because he is in the midst of working on it. But it's been three months. I feel like it would only take me a half hour to put to rights. A half hour. Does my husband not have a half hour to dedicate to my sanity? Every day that I see it I remember that he still hasn't done it.

Today I finally wondered why it matters so much to me. Will having that back splash clean make my life better? Is it really worth it? Why does it make me panic to look at it? Why do I feel like things are falling apart because it isn't clean?

These are things I am pondering, tonight.

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