Today I am quite literally in a funk. I have had one of those mind-blowing creative juices flowing kind of weeks. I have written two press releases, with a lot of help from a great friend. I have tweeted, blogged, calculated profit & loss, made phone calls and sent at least a hundred emails. On the home front, I have packed snack, played at the playground, gave baths, wiped snotty noses and poopy butts. I have even managed to make dinner just about every night. I am exhausted.
I am grateful that God gave me a mind that doesn’t quit. When I grab on to an idea I have the bite of a pitbull and cannot release until the idea has run it’s course. I work on it in my mind constantly. Every new evolution is considered, discarded, written down for later use or acted on immediately. I think I may have some kind of obsessive compulsive disorder that pushes me towards tunnel vision.
Amazingly, I almost never get this jazzed up about effectively and efficiently finishing my laundry. I could care less if dinner dishes stay out over night. I have never had a vision for an organized cupboard or spice rack. Where, oh where is my inner Bree Van de Kamp? Has anyone seen her? Did I stuff her way back in my subconsciousness like a multiple personality? If so, I need to have that mental break that brings her out into the open with her matching cutlery and perfectly weeded rose garden. I need to look at a junk drawer and snap instead of shutting it with a sigh.
I apparently don’t want it that bad. If I did the bloody (red paint) hand prints on the lower section of my glass front door would have been washed off the day after Halloween along with the chalk that still reads “Monster House”. I suppose the Christmas lights dangling off my porch would be taken down by now too. I would at this moment, not be sharing my homemaker angst with the world via my blog. I would be flipping my mattresses or dusting my baseboards. That actually makes me laugh. Dusting baseboards? Who actually does that?!
I do envy those mothers who have their collective crap together. I don’t find them to be nearly as interesting but I do envy them. The mothers that don’t have to close doors to certain rooms or who have a schedule they stick to in regards to cleaning and maintaining one’s home. It’s kind of like the girl at my high school who graduated with a 99% average. We were all amazed. Well, some of us were amazed. Her resume will read that she graduated top of her class. The end. There were no extra curriculars, no volunteer work and no community groups. I am partially envious and partially bored out of my mind.
Every time I make a great schedule, I stand back approvingly, hang it up somewhere and never use it. I want to. I intend to. I don’t do it. I wish I could even say that I am looking for tips but I am not. Unless your tip is to go through the house with a big black commercial trash bag and toss anything off putting into it for later disposal. If that’s your tip, I am all in. If it’s another systematic attempt to organize my disheveled layered small business owner, mother, wife and philanthropic crazy person’s life then, nope. I am not listening. Not today anyway.
I find it increasingly difficult to separate my life into neatly labeled file folders. My priorities change and are rotating constantly. The business finds ways to sneak under closed doors and into my conciousness at the strangest of times. I tend to play the roll of the bucket brigade dousing water on small flare ups all day long. What honey? You don’t have clean boxers? Oh, Isaiah needs tea? Right now? Sure I can provide an estimate? Would you like me to bring you sample boards? I don’t know why Isaac is upstairs? Levi needs a nap? Our employee did what?
I am going to get up now and poor myself halfheartedly into cleaning futility with a good attitude. It’s just going to be back there tomorrow which really kills the sense of accomplishment I am looking for.
Did I say with a good attitude? My priorities just changed and I am going to do it out of obligation.