I am an inept throwback to the 1950's housewife. Our grandmothers just seemed to know how to be domestic engineers with flair. I could blather on and on about how it's the most important job known to man or ramble almost incoherently about how it's a thankless job it (especially since my 9 month old has kept me up all night and woken up for the day at 5 am that last 3 nights). I love being a Stay at Home Mom but I am constantly laughing at the fact that I am the one running this household. For the most part, I love this job and in my heart I want to keep the house tidy. I wish that I could throw together an elaborate dinner made from scratch every night. In my heart, the kids are always clean and dressed. The reality is that most of the time they have remnants of lunch on their faces and Griffin spends the afternoon running around on the couch in his underwear while a store bought casserole cooks in the oven.
It's comical that I am the one in charge of the laundry because I am challenged when it comes the completing the task. We typically have two laundry baskets in the living room full of clean and unfolded clothes. We simply select the clothes we want to wear from the baskets. We spend some time searching for various items and nine times out of ten, Griffin goes to school in socks that don't match. My husband goes to work with two different socks on all of the time. It's awesome.
It's ridiculous that I am in charge of keeping the house tidy because I am the messiest person on the planet. Once, in High School, my best friend was rummaging through my drawers and found a half eaten Snicker bar stuck to a pair of
tights. I wasn't even ashamed when she pointed it out to me. I just shrugged and went on with my life.
I adore the concept of the 1950's housewife as absurd and outdated as it may seem. The whole notion of running a smooth household is a mystery to me. I just love the idea of creating this wonderful space for your family to live in. I love the romantic notion of being this well groomed woman that has her sh*t together and drives to the grocery store in fancy shoes. Yet...I can laugh my inability to ever be that woman.
As I float through my home and look at all of the crap that needs to be done to keep it nice and tidy I am not willing to make the sacrifices needed to have that perfect home. I would rather let the dishes sit in the sink and play Go Fish with Griffin instead. I would rather let the laundry sit unfolded as we dance around the living room. The mopping can wait as I sit on the floor and play with
Koen. My home is not perfect but in my heart, I am the type of Woman who can do it all. In reality, not so much.
Thank God my family loves me despite the fact that I am domestic joke.
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