Thursday, August 25, 2011

Domestic Depression. What life is like when you suck at house work.

House work does not come naturally to me.  I think if during 48 hours you can put an iPhone through the washing machine and causing a bubble waterfall because I over filled the detergent, it is safe to say you deserve a big U/S (unsatisfactory) in domestic duties. 
I didn’t really see house work something that reflected badly on me until I had to start filling out forms stating that my career was “Domestic Duties”.  I have recently been filling out such sections with “Mother Extraordinaire” and "Children’s Services Technician", because lets face it, if I was employed for my domestic ability I would not remain employed here.  
As my children have got older and my free time has become less and less, it seems that the house work can very quickly get out of hand at my place.  Don’t get me wrong, were not wading through a sea of dirty washing with dirty dishes for boats, however with 3 little lads running around, toys seem to multiply from on end of the house to the other, things get spilled and trampled from room to room, dirty clothes overflow the washing basket, and that is all before morning tea.  When I talk to other parents I quickly realize that I am not alone, we all seem to be fighting the same battles domestically.   
The time I find particularly stressful is when I have people coming over to visit, especially if it is their first visit.  I always try to make a good impression, so I consider it important that there are enough clear spaces to sit, the main through fairs are clear from obstacles and of course the toilet is flushed and puddle free. I am my biggest critic and crazily focus on silly details.  Of course visitors are not going to know if my towels are stuffed in the cupboards rather than folded, and that the dishes in the dishwasher haven’t gone through.   
I would love to say I am getting better, but I am not.  I am getting help though, she comes every fortnight and does all of the jobs I seem to struggle to get around too.  To be honest, she needs come every day, only then would I really feel on top of things.  Alas because that is never going to happen, I plug away at it, and try to brave the daily domestic battle alone*. 
This week I was really optimistic that things would go well for a change.  The Boyfriend and I worked hard before Mr J’s 1st birthday to get everything ready and finish off lots of things about the place that had been neglected.  We were pretty happy with how everything had come together and made a pact to try really REALLY try hard to keep on top of everything for as long as possible.   
Things had been going really well, until I got ambitious this week and happily invited people over most days this week.  I love having people ever and I find it really relaxing to be able to chat with my friends knowing that the kids are happily playing, or they can go to bed if needed.  How ever a few things happened that put my ambitions into perspective.  Every time someone was over Mr A decided that it is the perfect time to do the biggest poo known to toddlers,  my plans for having the prefect menu go out the window because I ran out of time to make it/ they couldn’t eat it/I over cooked it, and at any given time I had at least 3 baskets of washing to be sorted and put away.  AND do you know what?  It wasn’t the end of the world! My guests did not storm out in disgust, the kids had a great time and I had civilised adult conversation. 

To be honest I think I am the only person in this house who worries about the mess, the kids and the boyfriend don’t even notice.  Below is a photo of Mr T and Mr A performing to me in the morning while I lay in bed before getting up to breakfast. (Yes i'm putting my laundry out there on the net.)  Instead of complaining about the piles of (clean) washing beside the bed crowding their space, Mr A used it as a seat and Mr T positioned him self to take advantage of the acoustics.  I know that it is the special memories, of my family and my friends that I will cherish, rather than the memory of me fishing my waterlogged phone out of the washing machine.

*The Boyfriend does help and do his fare share, but this is my blog so if he wants to talk about his domestic battle, he can start his own blog.

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