It gets dirty.
I don’t clean.
Things get real.
Now that I’m hitting my second trimester energy stride, I have the deep desire to streamline my chore routine for the most effective results. I’m getting the urge to clear all the clutter and never get behind on the dishes or laundry ever again. Ever. But, I am tired. I also want Owen to learn the lower case letters of the alphabet and work on his fine motor skills. I want Maisy to start walking and I want everyone to go outside at least once a day. Also, I write this blog. Wudda time suck.
I start my day with delusions of grandeur. “I WILL wash, fold, and put away this laundry!” So I wash it. Then the next day I dry it. Then the day after that I put it through the wrinkle release cycle and actually fold it. Then, four days later when I need the laundry basket again I put it away. Truly, I blame my husband and children. Selfishly they wear clothes every. single. day. And if I want to light my Good-mom-o-meter right up, I even change them from pajamas into play clothes and then at night BACK into pajamas. My husband, don’t even get me started on him. He also wears clothes everyday, and they’re bigger than baby clothes. I’m thinking of investing in some Hunger Games type uniforms that can withstand heat and sweat. Put everyone in those and just throw em through the rinse cycle once a week.
Needless to say, I’m not doing great. Chores are hard. There’s a lot of self loathing in my life. Sometimes I delude myself into thinking that I just have crazy high standards of clean, which is why I can’t get the house clean to my liking. Then I look around and see play dough in the couch cushions and a graham cracker smashed into the carpet and the ghost of a long dead spider haunting his cobweb and I accept the truth. My standards are low. And I can’t meet them. So my new plan is to have three children, wait until the proper age, then make them do the dishes and put away the laundry. This plan should come to fruition in about 5 years. Until then!