Life After Three and the Lies of Productivity

I was talking to some women last night at a Christmas party, and as we were discussing transitioning from one child to two and then two to three, I realized that my housekeeping skills haven't been the same since I went from two to three. Sure, they weren't great when I just had two, but they really went downhill at three!!!

This transition was probably one of the most difficult ones to make, but after a year of having three, I am getting the hang of going out with them, eating with them, and having fun with them. However, I still find the housework a challenge!

Like today, for instance.

I have been doing laundry and dishes. I also straightened my bedroom and fixed a wobbly drawer in the kids' dresser.

I remember with two I could have also cleaned out the fridge and done a thorough house blessing! Perhaps it is partly related to having a little one who is INTO EVERYTHING! When she is awake, I really have to keep my eyes on her.

Dave is awesome. He doesn't complain. Even when I ask him to complain, he can only muster, "I wish you would rinse off your dishes before you put them in the sink." Seriously? That's it? You aren't furious that your underwear are dirty and there are dishes piled in the sinks and all along the countertops? You aren't frustrated that there are goldfish all over the dining room floor and crumbs and marker streaks on the table? He really is a gem.

I know sometimes I am too hard on myself in the housekeeping department, but how did Dave's grandma do so much on a farm? How did she get up at 4am? How did she milk all the cows, take care of four kids (one set of twins) and bring water up from a well? And garden? And clean? And cook? HOW?????

I don't know. I think my life is pretty easy compared to hers, and I don't have to keep a farm running to survive, either. My life is so different. I'm thankful, but I do wish I had some of that motivation. But, at the same time, I do think "productivity" is a god in this culture. We measure worthiness and capability by how much one accomplishes in a day (or an hour).

When my head hits the pillow tonight, I want to think that I did exactly what I was supposed to do today. My list of accomplishments may be short, but I pray my children and husband felt loved by what small amount I was able to do.

Hedonism and Me

So, I have this friend, Hedonism, that is a bit of a leech. She hangs around ALL the time, and she's constantly persuading me to do whatever I feel like doing while I ignore what is important and best for others. In fact, there have been many times when I have chosen Hedonism over my husband, my children, and my friends.

Hedonism and I go way back. This is particularly most evident in housekeeping. I have struggled since my teenage years with being tidy. I am just not neat. I'm not pigsty filthy, but I am not tidy. I am messy. I leave a trail wherever I go. You could look at my house most days and see where I have been and what I have done, cooked, and eaten.

I married a man who is tidier than I am. He generally picks up after himself (except for his shoes and doctor mail), and unfortunately, he is really laid back as well. This does not bode well for a procrastinating, untidy wife. I can count on my hand the number of times he has asked me to pick up my stuff or told me that the house is making him feel a bit overwhelmed.

The funny thing is that I feel overwhelmed by it, too.

So yesterday, I told him how I was feeling about my job as housekeeper. I have considered hiring someone to help me with the house. After all, I do have three children who keep me busy, right? Wrong. The deal is this: I do whatever I want to do whenever I feel like doing it. I rarely don't have time to clean; I just don't want to. So, I don't. I have a hard time making myself do things that I don't want to do (of course, this is part of the fun perks of being an adult--there's no one to boss you around and make you do the stuff you don't want to do!). Yet, someone has to do them.

I'm a bit of an extremist--all or nothing--never half-hearted. So, back to my conversation with my melancholic/phlegmatic husband who is too gracious for words. I asked him, "How do people who are organized by nature motivate themselves to do the undesirable, boring, and unpleasant things in life? And, what should I do about my problem? I waver too much between legalism and grace (all or nothing). I am either too hard on myself about it or too lenient. I can't seem to be balanced."

His answer?

"Maybe you should set some limits for yourself--like only play The Sims for an hour a day?"

Problem. When my hour is up, I don't care, and I keep playing. (Yes, I play computer games. Too much. I also sew, crochet, read, play on Facebook, talk on the phone...and too many times, I do these things while my kids watch PBS or Boomerang.)

So, I LOVE IT when people ask me, "How do you have time to do all the projects, etc?" Well, I do whatever I want to do. Sadly, though, it is often at the expense of my family.

While I was in the shower last night, I began talking with Dave about breastfeeding (a subject I am very familiar with and talk about a lot because it has always been difficult for me). I have nursed all of my children, and each of them has had some crazy issue that has made it incredibly hard--Sam would have nursing strikes that would leave me in tears, Maryn had a horrible latch which was incredibly painful for me for the first two months, and Lucy had horrible reflux, was losing weight, and would refuse to nurse because of her pain. A lightbulb suddenly went off in my head. Why did I persevere with breastfeeding, especially when it was so hard and unpleasant? Why did I do the things that were hard? Where was hedonism in those moments?

I persevered because it was important to me. I believed strongly that what I was doing in breastfeeding would set the tone for my kids' development and our bond. I wanted the best for my kids. Hedonism took a backseat because breastfeeding my children was more important to me than my own interests. It was sacrificial on my part. They took preeminence over my comfort.

So, now I am asking myself? What is most important to me here at home? Perhaps I haven't had the motivation to keep the house tidy or play more with my kids because I haven't considered what is most important. Is Hedonism going to win while my kids are rotting their brains (okay, maybe not so much with PBS...) in front of the TV? Is the peace that comes with a clean home worth it for my family and for me?

Hedonism, it is time you left the building.

Motivation, Accountability, Whatever You Call It

I'm struggling with the mess around here.

I am unmotivated to clean it up.

There's too much to do.

Cleaning is boring.

But, it must be done.

So, here is the ugly truth.

I'm hoping the promise of "after" pictures will get me into gear.

I know I'm not alone.

I'm letting this ugly out in the open so it can be exposed for what it is.

Then, perhaps, I can take some pretty pictures of our new house with its fresh paint.

Without further adieu, I present my mess.

The sunroom was attacked by a sewing monster.

The kitchen counter is full of dishes.

Bills, paper clutter, ugh.

And, to comfort your seared eyes, here is the rag rug that I made. I really like it. If you can do a simple single crochet, you can make one of these.

I didn't use vintage sheets or anything, just fabric scraps I had lying around.

Random and Quick

I know I love to read random posts, so I hope you will indulge mine.

Dave is fine. He made it safely. Had to run to catch a plane in Germany. Made it without the suitcase containing his otoscope, socks, and underpants. Stink. Literally.

I got to actually hear his precious voice last night. He skyped me using someone else's computer. I was so thankful. It does make a world of difference to hear his voice. Hmmm...I'll be thinking about that whole voice thing...I'm sure there is a post in there somewhere...

Maryn has a weird rash on her lower legs and the underside of her forearms. I don't handle rashes well. I'm scared to death of things like scabies, hand foot mouth, you know, anything contagious that requires you to bleach your house and keep everyone quarantined. We're going to the doctor in about an hour. Thank God.

I'm okay. I'm sad and miss my husband. My grandma had a miniature stroke the other night. Praying she doesn't have a big one. She's my last grandma alive. I have two grandpas who haven't really stayed in touch, so I feel like she's IT in that department (except for Grandpa Hat). I am not ready for her to go quite yet.

Nothing more on the house. Flyers continue to disappear from the box, but the only phone call I've had this week was someone wanting to rent to own. No thanks. Not upset at the moment. I know it will all work out eventually.

I want a grey skirt--a flowy one made out of organic cotton with a little poofy slip. Oh, and with a fitted waistband. It's in my head, but I don't know if it exists.

I have had the "I wants" lately. Ugghhh. Well, I saw these, and thought, I'd like those as well, thank you.

I think these are wonderful in every sense of the word. Bed, Bath, & Beyond (my budget)...$100/4 place setting...ahhh, well, they're pretty to look at.

But, like I learned from the Floods (a couple who did some parenting classes with us), we love PEOPLE not things. So, I really like these dishes...

...but I love you. I do.