Nobody ever warns you when you’re expecting your first child that they are messy. So, so, so messy. Nothing is safe from their dirty fingerprints, spills, coloring, painting, and all kinds of things you won’t have thought about. Hiatt tried washing his hair with Vaseline one time. Another time he had fun with old ashes in a fireplace and covered himself head to toe in ash along with about half of the living room. I was out of his line of sight for 2 minutes tops both times. I have many more stories along these same lines. Kids are messy in ways you can’t yet predict. You will be cleaning up something from now until eternity. Consider this your warning!
I don’t mind doing housework at all. I’m one of those weirdos who finds it calming and relaxing. It forces my mind to focus on the task I’m working on; it somehow slows the hamster wheel of my brain. I like to cook in a clean kitchen and walk on a floor where it won’t be death by toys so those are good motivators to just get the chores done as soon as I can. I feel so much calmer when the environment around me is in order but everyone with kids knows they are anything but orderly. It has been challenging for me as a Mom to learn how to embrace some amount of disarray. For instance, the bookshelf in our main room isn’t in perfect order because I asked Abby to put her books away and she did. They’re on the bookshelf not perfectly but they are on it and maybe the books aren’t how I would have put them away but she did her little three year-old best and I’ve learned to be okay with that. She did what I asked and it isn’t a matter of health and safety. I have to be okay with that for sanity’s sake. I’m learning as they grow too.
Now that I gushed about how much I don’t mind doing housework I’ll tell the real life part of the story. There is one thing I dread – I hate matching and folding socks so much. As a result there are still socks in that pile that used to fit chubby little toddler feet. My son is nine now. You saw the picture. The socks are out of the bag. A full size linen laundry bag to be exact. For shame, right? Whatever. If that is all that I’m guilty of along this journey of raising kids, then awesome! I don’t need perfectly matched socks to prove to anyone my worth as a mother.
But having said all that; it has become more of a chore now to actually find matching socks or socks that actually fit than to just sort through them so I have to tackle this monster. How crazy is it that sorting socks makes my anxiety skyrocket? I don’t know what to do with all of the socks. Do people give away socks? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen socks at the thrift store. It seems so wasteful to just throw them away. I bet landfills all across the U.S. have their fair share of perfectly good socks.
What are some of the things you dread doing as you go about your Mom duties? I know I’m not alone in this. I know parents who hate doing laundry, hate doing dishes, hate cooking, and all kinds of other things that someone, somewhere, once upon a time said would mean we are doing this parenting thing right. But I disagree, none of those things are fair representations of the job we are doing raising our kids. How happy and healthy our kids are and how loved they are seem to be much better indicators of our parenting skills in my mind. Getting someone else to do the dishes or cook supper, not so much.
For ease of access though today I am going to go sort socks, finally. But first maybe I’ll do some homework, or clean the bathroom, or…, or…, or…