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.
1 comment:
One day, there will be no laundry, and you will look forward to them coming to visit and offering to do some for them. My mother does ours even if we are only spending one night... "let me send you home with clean clothes"... :)
I love this poem:
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
- Ruth Hulbert Hamilton
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