Domestic Goddess

Let's get one thing straight: a domestic goddess I am not. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy many domestic activities: cooking, sewing, crafts, activities with the kids. Now that I am thinking about it, all of these activities require making messes. This is where I excel. I am always willing to participate in any undertaking that involves getting a bunch of stuff out and making something new out of it. The aftermath is usually reminiscent of a crime scene, but hey, it's worth it to see a finished product. Right?

OK, so back to my original point. I think the reason I lack the skills necessary to be a super duper homemaker type is my lack of organizational skills. This is actually something I have struggled with for my entire life. In elementary school, my horrible teacher, Mrs. Miller the 4th Grade Killer, used to dump my desk out on the floor weekly because it was such a disaster. I always had a backpack filled with papers and a completely empty Trapperkeeper. In junior high and high school, my parents always knew which locker was mine on back to school night because there were papers sticking out of it. In college, while sitting in my horrendously messy room reading a textbook, something that I read really struck me in a list of characteristics of students with high IQs:

• sometimes acts without planning; may be sloppy, unorganized; is
not bothered by mess and disorder;.

Imagine that! I am so messy cause I'm smart. Go freaking figure! So, I used this as my excuse for a while, and it worked for me. I was not at all bothered by mess and disorder. However, another characteristic of my brilliance started to rear its ugly head when I became a wife, and subsequently, a mother: "perfectionistic thinking". You see, it is awfully hard to try to be perfect all the time when I generally suck at many things. Driving, waiting in lines, reading maps, folding, being bothered by mess and disorder...the list goes on and on.

As you can imagine, the task of keeping the toys, food, and clothing of my children contained and organized is pretty flipping impossible for me. However, due to my "perfectionistic thinking", I couldn't have my children grow up in a house filled with disorder. Plus, Andy is kinda methodical, routine-based, and organized. I don't want to make him antsy merely because I don't mind stepping over things to get to the kitchen. So, I set a goal to make routines for myself. To follow through. To somehow maintain an appearance of keeping it together no matter how cluttered my brain was. Easier typed than done, my friends, but I persevered. And we, my enlightened husband and I, have done a pretty good job working through my, um, issue. Sometimes, though, in our frenzied weeks, things start to get all discombobulated again and we have to take a day to regroup. So, welcome to my day today! The following picture represents two hours of hard work and wrangling of uncooperative helpers:


So that's what this whole long rambling is about, you ask? You're darn skippy it is. Why did I feel the need to write a novel about cleaning a playroom? Well, this brings me to another characteristic that I embody: procrastination!