Fresh from the March 23rd issue are two articles:
I AM THE UNDOMESTIC GODDESS
Domestically challenged. That’s what my husband calls me and I can’t argue. I leave clothes in the dryer and unwashed dishes in the sink. Heck, I can’t even properly make a bed. In my defense, I was a princess in my past life. Hah! I know I shouldn’t make excuses about being a bad housekeeper but I’d like to think that being a good mother trumps housekeeping any day. So if I’d rather teach my babies to read rather than mop the floor, I think I’m justified. But who am I kidding right?
I suppose having chosen to stay at home to raise children, keeping the house neat and tidy is part of my job description. But I am so not good at it that it has become a major source of insecurity. I keep thinking my friends’ houses are cleaner, neater, nicer. I tell myself: I can’t make a bed because I had always just thrown the covers on, and I mess up cooking Rice-A-Roni on occasion because I’m a scratch cook/baker and I’d fare better making fried rice from scratch. (Who needs instructions, right?) Lately, however, I’ve been making an effort with the dishes and the clothes. And so, most nights the dishes have been washed by hand (we do not have a dishwasher) and the dry clothes are folded (and put away if I’m feeling extra domestic). But cleaning? That’ll take some effort.
Thank goodness for my Swiffer, my Magic Eraser and Lysol wipes. The house is not Martha Stewart-clean but it is definitely not dirty. Clutter however is an entirely different problem which I swear I need professional help with. There are papers piled on desks and odds and ends strewn about. The kids and I try our best to contain their toys in bins and boxes and shelves. And yet, at the end of the day, their playroom, which extends to the living room and to any where they pass etc., looks like a war zone.
For a while now, I’ve been feeling like I was the only one like this so imagine my surprise when my girlfriends confessed to their own domestic diva handicaps at lunch the other day. “I hate doing laundry,” M announced. “I don’t even sort them,” A. said. What? Laundry, why? That’s the least dreadful chore I told them and offered to fold their laundry for them if they cleaned my house for me. Before we could give it any serious thought, we heard our little boys make a ruckus in the next room- so we had to go check on them. See, I told you mommy issues beat house keeping issues any day. –END