I'm convinced June Cleaver was faking it. Housework is not fun, despite the many times

I've tried to convince myself otherwise. There is nothing exciting about dishes,

laundry, and scrubbing the bathroom floor on your hands and knees. As a stay-at-home mom

and housewife, that's my "job". If I don't do it, who will? I AM the maid. If my house is a mess,

it means I'm doing something wrong, right?

 

Crock pots are handy and mean less pots and pans to scrub, but what isn't convenient is having

to use every bit of strength in my arms to scrub off the caked on burnt pieces that resulted in not

adding enough liquid to my culinary creation of chicken and canned cream of mushroom soup, amidst

Cooper screaming and pushing on my legs as if my doing dishes is pure torture to him. I guess he just

can't stand not being involved in so much FUN. After all, I'm apparently really enjoying having dried

mushrooms jammed  underneath my fingernails.

 

Some days I wonder what the point is. The only people that usually see the house are me

and Cooper. Well, except for the days when my parents come to dinner, and it's not like

they expect much from their previously lazy and spoiled daughter anyways. Anything is an

improvement from the days BEFORE I was a wife and mom. God bless them for that though,

because my own mom is Super Housewife. How does she make it look so effortless? I can do

the EXACT same thing that she does, and somehow when she does it, it always looks twice as

clean. I'm convinced that even if I had the entire day to myself and nothing to do but clean, my

house would still never be as spotless as hers, and ours is about half the size of theirs. For my own

sanity, I must stop comparing myself to her. By the time my husband gets home, I'm lucky if it's

straight, and I don't really think he cares. He's not obsessive about things like I am. And Cooper...well,

it's becoming increasingly obvious that he prefers the toys to be strewn all over the place. I swear, he's

like a hawk. He's just WAITING for me to put something away so that he can come and rescue it and

return it to it's rightful place on the floor. I have to SNEAK his toys into his room. I am smuggling

toys from a toddler. Sometimes I just have to laugh.

 

 

And you know what I do in an attempt to convince myself that I'm enjoying it? I wear an apron.

A frilly little apron in a floral patchwork design, over my pajamas. In my mind, I almost look like one of

those adorable Stepford wives. Who am I kidding? I look ridiculous.

 

Now, to give myself credit, I do put forth one hell of an effort most days. Other

days, I saw "screw it" and spend the entire day joining Coop in making his mess of toys.

My house may have blocks and stuffed animals everywhere, but it's clean. The meals I prepare

may not be gourmet, but they're usually well-balanced and healthy, and I can make some pretty

darn good pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. I always gets a "Mummmm" (Yum) from Cooper, and Mike

always clears his plate twice. And if even once Cooper is able to compare his future wife's cleaning

abilities to mine and find mine to be a tad superior, I will have done my job. :)

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Comments:

Sleep...
May. 18, 2011 at 10:32 AM

Love this!

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