Oh no. Not you? Who’d it be? Certainly not me!
Yes, it’s true. I’ve become THAT woman. You know the one. The woman you talk about with your closest girlfriend (who I call my “sistafriends”), where you can throw around the dirt and it’s safe – the conversation doesn’t leave the kitchen counter (or wine bar). Not that YOU do that. But THAT woman where you say, “poor thing, the kids have taken over” or “Wow. There’s too much crap in her house” or maybe even, “She’s losing it.” I felt bad for THAT woman and wondered if she had given up or was just too overwhelmed? C’mon, how hard is it to stay home with the kids? I mean really, people.
Well, here I am. I’ve become Her. I used to say those things, but now I don’t. I GET IT. It’s hard to keep it all together – the groceries, the cleaning (what little I do of it…always pressing up against my line of what I can tolerate vs. getting away with), the constant flow of laundry (oh the laundry!), doing the dishes, making lunch, fixing dinners, wiping noses, changing diapers, applying band aids, picking up, picking up, picking up, not to mention the numerous interruptions when I’m actually trying to do something that doesn’t directly involve the kids (you know, like the bills, responding to an email, looking for a job, trying to blog, returning calls, scheduling a playdate, etc.).
How was I ever a full time working mom of two plus a husband? I still cooked, picked up, read books, returned person emails, called friends. But the truth of the matter is that a) I had a house cleaner and b) I didn’t spend anytime with the kids and in fact, BigBoy didn’t like me very much. That wasn’t good. So yes, there is a good payoff, but does it have to be my sanity?
So here I am. My house looks like the toy box vomited. Everywhere. In the living room, kitchen, dining room, my office/playroom and on the stairs. You’ll find toys in the master bedroom, hallway, guest room, boys’ bathroom, and all over their floor and in ever nook and cranny of their rooms. Stepping on a piece of plastic at anytime (particularly at night) can send me on a fiery rage instantly, but no, I keep my cool. But it’s pushing me close to the edge. It’s certainly driving me to drink more (but not like Sally) and little tokey now and again, which certainly has been a hot topic around the Bloghersphere. But we’ll address those issues at a later time.
I know people excuse the mess by saying, “what do you expect with two kids under five?” Well quite frankly I expect a bit more organization and a little less chaos. Thankyouverymuch. Oh I don’t mind a little mess. You should see my desk or the linen closet. But c’mon all over the house? How many times a day do I have to pick up this shit?
And might I say, comparatively, we don’t have that much stuff. I limit the toys to one toy box for Big Boy, one for BabyD, and one downstairs in the office/playroom. Anymore than that is too much. But it’s like Pandora’s box, once it’s opened, it goes everywhere!!! Yes, I make sure the boys pick up right before Husband gets home, so he’s not freaked out when he walks in the door. Really, I just want him to take the kids outside and play (read: away from me) so I can cook, have a glass of wine, and relax a bit, rather than him having to pick up after us.
Is it just a case of keeping calm and carrying on? How do I untangle my sanity being related to all this crap on the floor? I need a system or I will be driven to more substance use or the loony bin. I did a good job this weekend going through Big Boy’s toy box eliminating the little pieces of crap, toys he doesn’t play with, and basically the toys that I hate. I did receive good feedback like “hey Mom, I found my little man that I’ve been missing!” But I still have the downstairs to do. It’s like cleaning the toilets, someone has to do it. It’s gonna be me. I hate it.
Then I probably need to do this every six months. And train them (and myself) to pick up before going to bed. Nothing makes my day start out with a groan like walking downstairs and seeing the living room floor covered with toys. Ugh jen, get a grip on yourself, woman!
Also, do you think it bad of me to ask guests to the boys’ birthday parties not to bring gifts of toys? Will this permanently dement my children? Both of the boys’ birthdays come right after the holidays and the expense and consumption of the season never really sits right with me. I’ll tackle that one later.
For now, let me just say thanks to my sistafriends Bryn and Lola who help me with this craziness and those friends I have yet to meet, JerseyGirl and Mrs. FussyPants (and the other funny women on the blogosphere). Thank you for making me laugh through my path as a SAHM and being THAT woman. She’s not so bad. I’m learning to not suffer through my insanity and love every minute of it. Cheers ladies!
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