I have dreams of having a clean house. That's all they are though: dreams. Having 5 children means that I usually don't have a clean home. I marvel at the sparkly homes of my friends, even those with multiple children. I wonder how they do it? Does it involve a lot of yelling? Bribing? Do these mothers work themselves to death in the wee hours of the morning? I haven't figured out the answer but I know that at about 8 pm I am done. I can't lift another finger. I need some quiet time to unwind, decompress from the day. When unexpected people come to visit, I hope they have no reason to just pop into my kitchen. Just stay in the entry way where it's not quite so bad.
When school is in session, I can do a reasonable job of keeping the house clean. Not great, but reasonable. There are no kids around to bother me or mess up what I have done. I don't have to answer the same question 40 times. ("The answer is still no.") But I seem to have so many things that keep me busy that cleaning the house is the lowest on the priority list. Good thing that The Cowboy doesn't really care, but then again, he doesn't actually see any dirt to clean up. It's a catch 22.
And then comes Saturday. The day all my dreams should come true. Every child has to do a variety of jobs before they are allowed loose on the world. There are bedrooms to clean, bathrooms to scrub, floors to vacuum. Things should be picked up, put away and the house should not be embarrassing if someone should happen to drop by. And sometimes things actually do get cleaned up, but never to my satisfaction.
And then it hits me, teaching my children to work and clean the house really has nothing to do with me having a clean home. It has everything to do with teaching them responsibility. In taking pride in a job well done. In learning to do the hard things first. I am always going behind, doing the "finishing," but I hope that I am moving forward in raising good kids. Even if I have to let some dreams go.
Monday, January 1, 2018
And in other news...
I stumbled upon this blog of mine tonight remembering how I wanted to document so many life moments knowing my children would be growing up so fast. I had to laugh that I had written exactly two blog posts in 2013. So much for documenting our life. And now here we are in 2018 with Peaches about to graduate from high school. She is furiously filling out college applications and dreaming of where she will attend college in the fall. The rest of the kids are just as grown up even the baby, who isn't a baby anymore and wants her name to be Key Lime Pie. I could have never guessed in 2013 where my life would be today. Isn't that they way it always goes? If we knew what was going to happen to us in the future, we might not dare to go there.
And it is exactly the hard things that make us who we are. It is the struggle that makes us strong, the tears that teach us compassion and our suffering that makes us more Christlike. I can't recount the pain and sadness of the last few years, but my marriage and the wonderful life that I knew is over. It has been a long road so in some ways I am relieved. But just as I feel a sense of peace and comfort, I feel devastated. There has been so much anger on my part toward my husband and his choices but I have decided to let that all go. Even as I type that, I want it to be true. It is easy to say in a moment of clarity but harder to remember when behaviors are damaging by those who claim to love. In some ways, divorce is a death. A death of all we knew and trusted, a death of our old life, a death of what we thought the future would hold.
Christmas was a day all spent together. It was awkward, but I am determined not to be unkind as I hope for my children that all holidays will be celebrated together. No dividing of parental love or time. We opened presents, had our traditional peaches, ice cream and waffles, went to see Star Wars and then I made dinner, for all. My cookbook club has been making recipes out of Food 52's Genius Recipes for the month of December so that where I took my inspiration. The cookbook can be found here.
My favorite was Salt-Crusted Potatoes with Cilantro Mojo. I also made Perfect Pan-Seared Steaks which were tasty but more work than steak should be. We all were filled and left satisfied even if life was a bit complicated.
And it is exactly the hard things that make us who we are. It is the struggle that makes us strong, the tears that teach us compassion and our suffering that makes us more Christlike. I can't recount the pain and sadness of the last few years, but my marriage and the wonderful life that I knew is over. It has been a long road so in some ways I am relieved. But just as I feel a sense of peace and comfort, I feel devastated. There has been so much anger on my part toward my husband and his choices but I have decided to let that all go. Even as I type that, I want it to be true. It is easy to say in a moment of clarity but harder to remember when behaviors are damaging by those who claim to love. In some ways, divorce is a death. A death of all we knew and trusted, a death of our old life, a death of what we thought the future would hold.
Christmas was a day all spent together. It was awkward, but I am determined not to be unkind as I hope for my children that all holidays will be celebrated together. No dividing of parental love or time. We opened presents, had our traditional peaches, ice cream and waffles, went to see Star Wars and then I made dinner, for all. My cookbook club has been making recipes out of Food 52's Genius Recipes for the month of December so that where I took my inspiration. The cookbook can be found here.
My favorite was Salt-Crusted Potatoes with Cilantro Mojo. I also made Perfect Pan-Seared Steaks which were tasty but more work than steak should be. We all were filled and left satisfied even if life was a bit complicated.
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