Working Moms, Unite! (Or just try to survive. . . )

Just when I'm all "I've got this" and am crafting a post on how I've survived working full-time with three kids ages four and under (hello, pat on the back), I have a day.  So yeah.  Let's keep it real.  I live in a house of cards that when the stars are aligned, works well.  However on off weeks days, things are cling-on-by-your-fingernails to survive with any semblance of health.

So today before today went all shit-show in my head, I say head because in actuality it was a fine day, but my mood was all testy.  BUT lately things have been a bit better than not.  I almost feel like a grown-up.  Almost.  As I've mentioned before, laundry and housework are my nemesis (is this also the plural form. . . nemeses? I dunno).  I have managed to keep all three of my children alive and well, mostly eating well without much planning.

I have spent much of my parenting life plotting and planning & then hoping someone else will do the work--you know, like a domestic mastermind.  I know this isn't logical, but I have persevered mightily with this escapade.  I've been known to walk over shizz on the floor for weeks, getting illogically angry that someone else (read: my husband) hadn't picked up the toy/napkin/sock.

We took a somewhat radical step a few months ago and canceled our cleaning service.*  We had dropped down to them only coming every 4 weeks and the results weren't super satisfying.  We used those funds instead to pay for a laundry service.  Yup.  My wonderful mother and rediscovered friend, Jeremy, got us a gift certificate for the service when we added bonus baby.  Laundry Mountain? No. Freaking. More.  (Please know our office couch is always often covered with laundry still to put away.)

Enter my next step of being a grown-up--each night we try to do at least one chore.  Chris always does the dishes (I know, I'm lucky); I always sweep.  Then I add bathrooms, dusting. . .  something in short bouts of 15 minutes or so.  It's helping.

In June we added a meal-planning service for real food, which I expected Chris to put into play.  I. Know.  Seriously, I know.

But I've changed! (For the moment.)  For the last 2 weeks, I have prepped the veggies for dinners so that Chris can start dinner when he gets home.

Veggies for last week's meals.  Chopped and ready to use.

Sauce prepared for the slow-cooker recipe of Meatball Arribiata last night, eaten tonight.

Meatballs ready for the Arribiata sauce & the other half prepped for tomorrow's meal.  

It's freaking working.  Really.  The process of meal-planning is completely overwhelming to me, which leads to ordering out or eating lots of sandwiches.  The $10/month for our meal plans is worth it for the whole-food recipes that are planned for us.  I can chop veggies.  I can.  

So that's how we are keeping our heads above water for the moment.  The laundry service might be saving my life, simply because I'm not tripping and sliding on laundry in the dark hallway.  

*I completely recognize this is a First-World Problem and that we are incredibly lucky to have any extra income for someone to help us survive.  

Random Thoughts That Could be Blog Posts

Random thoughts that could be blog posts if I weren't so lazy:

1.  Laundry service is amazing, stupdenous, revolutionary.  Bundle clothes; they are picked up and delivered clean and folded in 2 days.  (it was a gift)

2.  We cleaned a lot of shizz out of our house because I was overwhelmed.  Extra towels?  Gone.  Unplayed-with toys? Gone.  Fancy glasses?  Gone.  All the clothes I might wear someday?  Gone.

3.  There's a grilled cheese restaurant in my neighborhood that is a revelation.  I ate there today.  Totally ruined any hopes of a gluten-free day.

4.  I haven't had a haircut in over 7 months.  I know this because my tiny baby isn't so tiny anymore and is 6.5 months old and I last got it cut well before I had the tiny baby.

5.  I really want a tiny little stud in my nose.  I know.  I'm 36 and it's a bit ridiculous, but I really want one.  I mean, why not?  Will it ruin my reputation at work?  Does it cost a million dollars?  Will my kids try to rip it out?

6.  We agreed to not use our phones at all in the evenings when the kids are awake for Lent and it's harder than one might think.  Mainly because I have a small addiction.

7.  My sweet 6 month old keeps teasing us by randomly sleeping all night and then returning to his one time per night waking.  It's a cruel trick that leaves hope in my heart.  I love sleep.

American Excess (Or Why Laundry Ruins My Life)

is alive and well, as evidenced by the mass quantities of laundry in my hallway, laundry, room, kids' laundry hampers. . . my bathroom floor.  I'm basically saying that we each have about 4 million pieces of clothing.  Laundry haunts me.  Clutters my view as I type this.  Today I decided we should each be allowed 10 outfits.  So then that would be 50 outfits for our family.  That sounds like a lot, but we are lucky to have much, much more.  And by lucky I mean it's also a curse.  A curse that haunts me.  I think I need to downsize, which would make life much more simple or much more likely that you'd see us wearing dirty clothes. 

Oh, and did I mention my husband has pneumonia? Yes.  That's real.  No exaggeration for dramatic effect. 

Perfect Home = Perfect Family?

Is a perfect home the measure of a perfect parent?  Does a messy house = failing to provide for my family?  How did I even come to have this standard of success?

As much as I am constantly trying to battle the perception that my size determines much of my worth, I have come to realize that I am constantly coming up short when I continue to measure my worth as a mom by the perfection of my house.  Basically, I am lazy.  I own it.  I would rather relax than mop, rather cuddle with my wee ones than dust and rather nap than fold laundry.  Yes, clutter and unfolded laundry makes me crazy, but when Elliott says from the couch, "Mommy, will you sit wif me?," I briefly weighed my options and found those three year-old cuddles won the prize.

I'm not sure how I fell into the trap of measuring my ability to be a grown-up by the status of my laundry baskets, but I'm trying to cut myself a break.  Instead of choosing to ignore chores and then feel overwhelming guilt and disappointment in myself over what is left undone, I am vowing to try and accept this as a phase of particular busyness, when the moments of a full-time working mom devoting full attention to child-raising are precious and certainly more important than a perfectly decorated house, cleaning up Laundry Table (yes, this matches Laundry Chair at my sister's house) and even folding the never ending river of laundry.

I have to tackle this challenge.  To be real with myself and with my family.  It seems certain to me that it is incongruent to match my ability to parent with my ability to keep a tidy home.  Love & tidiness aren't hopelessly intertwined, right?  I can only bet that my children would rather live in a cluttered home with parents who choose to let chores go undone in order to give them more time, rather than parents always focused on the appearance of a home.  Maybe this is finding ways to endorse my laziness & procrastination. But maybe, just maybe, this is allowing myself to own the challenges of having a full-time job outside the home along with the hardest, most important job around--Mom, while still trying to carve time for relaxation, a marriage and a wee bit of social life.

Now where's that remote?. . . .

Perpetual Boobstains

I would like to claim this affliction came with pregnancy or motherhood, but truth is I have had boobstains since before I had boobs.  My mom likes to say that as a child she knew what I had for lunch upon me reaching the pavement after the last step on the bus.  The sad truth of my pregnancy wardrobe is approximately 92% boobstained.  Don't judge.  Just know I'm cheap.  It's the third time I've been pregnant and I am resisting buying more maternity clothes.  I just keep hoping no one notices.  Or calls me out.  Those are kind of the same thing, right?

Run-Away Day. . .or Life

Sometimes life gets away from you.  You're all, we make dinner, we save money, look at our kids, aren't they great?  Then the universe slaps you back into reality--you know, unplanned pregnancy (at 35) and then chronic exhaustion, husband has to work late, three doctor appointments in one day (we're all fine, don't worry) and you are back in check.  Hell, I was even behind on reading my blogs.

Now I'm all, there are piles of laundry everywhere, dirty dishes in the sink, endless whining of a three-year old, we ran out of homemade baby food, and had to order in 2 times this week out of necessity.

(As for the 3 doctor appointments, B had a follow-up GI appointment (she's doing great), I had an OB appointment, Jose [Baby Three], is doing well and then Brooklyn had a visit with the pediatrician because she's got a cold/ear infection. So nothing major, but it was quite a day).

I get it Universe.  I get it.  Consider me warned.

Let's Get Real

I'm all for being honest.  Most of the working moms I know talk about how much of a disaster zone their home is--to the point where we won't see each other in our respective homes because of the mess.  I told two of my friends today that if I'm waiting for my house to be perfect, I may never see them again.  I need to get over my mom's voice in my head that a mess makes it unacceptable to have anyone enter my door.  So here's my attempt at transparency.  It's okay.  You can judge.  And let it be known that my house looks this way and I still choose to do things like write a blog post, take a nap (if it's the weekend) and create a huge mess of popcorn and chocolate for little Christmas goodies.  Smart?  Likely no.  I'm just surviving--knowing there are things more important than folding laundry when I get a scant 2 hours per day with my kiddos during the work week and that by the time they are in bed, I am toast.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not one of those perfect moms.  I know I'm not the only one.  I'm definitely not like a co-worker of mine who told me, quite seriously, that she doesn't check her email or have a Facebook account because those things would have her waste time.  So if you're all for wasting time on the interwebs while unfolded laundry takes over your house, CHEERS!  Now be brave and post about your own unfinished chores.  Let's live a little and show that a little mess doesn't matter in the scheme of things.  

And some baby cuteness.  Actually, I can't decide if I like this squenched up face she is making, but the picture makes me smile, so I'll include it.  

And finally, if you were wondering how Chris and I look gussied up, here's a pic from my company Holiday Party that happened to be on my birthday Birthday Bash!

Twinkles in the Death Spiral (or Controlling the Holidays)

The most amazing blog ever, Rants from Mommyland, calls the holidays the Halloween to Christmas Death Spiral.  I have aspirations of over-controlling the holiday to prevent the death spiral. This approach always seems to backfire, but being the determined soul I am, I continue to persevere with the same approach.    I am skidding sideways into the holidays, holding on tight to the sled with my eyes squeezed tight.

Remember the stellar parenting that made up our tree-buying experience?  If not, check it out here.  Well, despite the poor planning in the purchasing (like that alliteration?), our tree is up and is even decorated.  I know, right?  On top of that, I even managed to snap some of those sparkly light pics of the tree while putting off answering the oft=repeated, "What doing, Mommy?" in a quiet moment of serenity (I can pretend, right?).  Fun special-effecty pictures.  Oh, and I finally managed to rearrange our living room.  I'll have to post pics of that after I find a special effect that clears out the piles of folded laundry and various small toys.

My Dirty Little Secret

Turns out my dirty little secret isn't dirty and it isn't all that little:  Piles of clean laundry are taking over our home.  Slowly encroaching on ever surface available.  We leave the house dressed, kids well fed, homemade formula in tow but our house is a ginormous mess.  The kind of mess that would make me want to slam the door in a friend's face should someone drop by unannounced.  Playroom strewn with toys, all my maternity clothes laid out on the playroom couch left over from my failed attempt to sell them on eBay, hallway full of dirty clothes, laundry room with a substantial pile of clean laundry wedged into a corner so that the garage door may be opened, master bath unable to enter the closet due to the sorted dirty clothes and, finally, the living room with two full laundry baskets and another pile of clean clothes.  My current mantra is: "This stage won't last forever and my kids and taking time to rest are far more important than a perfect house."

I think the house is just a symptom of juggling everything required to be a working mom.  This week has left me longing for days with my kids, uninterrupted by duties and errands and work.  I am fairly vigilant about making sure we keep to some kind of sleep schedule for my wee people and committed to performing my work duties with competence.  These certainly don't always mesh.  Especially when my wee-est wee one goes to bed between 6:30 and 7:00, leaving me only an hour of time with her each evening.  Suckety-suck-suck.  The amount of "The Guilt," as the ladies from Rants from Mommyland call it,  is rampant on this front.    I could keep going on this train of thought, but in hopes of preserving my sanity and the need to finish my glass o' wine are making me stop.  Stop.  No really, Courtney, STOP.

Say it with me now:  "This stage won't last forever and my kids and taking time to rest are far more important than a perfect house."

"This stage won't last forever and my kids and taking time to rest are far more important than a perfect house."

"This stage won't last forever and my kids and taking time to rest are far more important than a perfect house."

Did it help?  I know.  We need practice.