An Eternal Mess
I need a clone of me.
Lucia is a precious cherished baby whom I adore etc. etc. etc. But today was frustrating. I unwisely took on an additional freelance project, intensifying an already full workload for the next week and a half, and the lack of work time I have these days just seemed more pronounced today. Lucia got up much earlier than usual, setting her on a Fusskins path she never managed to snap out of; she took a good nap this morning, but a much-needed nap this afternoon—which was hard-fought—lasted for…twenty minutes. Another good nap later on helped, but not much.
An orderly person like me sometimes feels overwhelmed not only with the unfinished work hanging over my head but with the sheer chaos that is my house by the end of a typical day. Dishes are everywhere. The dishwasher may or may not be unloaded. Pans of tepid water from heating milk for cereal and for the bedtime bottle of breastmilk clutter the counters. Newspaper sections cover the table. Laundry, if there was time to do it, is either forgotten and soggy in the washer or loitering in the dryer, sometimes for days. Laundry that managed to get removed from the dryer is probably doing its time in a laundry basket somewhere. Junk mail is piled on the table. Lucia’s books cover the couch. There are bills to pay, trash to take out, plants to water, the flotsam of everyday life to be returned to its proper place.
I don’t have time to do any of it. Even with Andrew diving into the mix as soon as he gets home from work, the house sometimes seems to stay one step ahead of us.
And we have just one kid.
Lucia is a precious cherished baby whom I adore etc. etc. etc. But today was frustrating. I unwisely took on an additional freelance project, intensifying an already full workload for the next week and a half, and the lack of work time I have these days just seemed more pronounced today. Lucia got up much earlier than usual, setting her on a Fusskins path she never managed to snap out of; she took a good nap this morning, but a much-needed nap this afternoon—which was hard-fought—lasted for…twenty minutes. Another good nap later on helped, but not much.
An orderly person like me sometimes feels overwhelmed not only with the unfinished work hanging over my head but with the sheer chaos that is my house by the end of a typical day. Dishes are everywhere. The dishwasher may or may not be unloaded. Pans of tepid water from heating milk for cereal and for the bedtime bottle of breastmilk clutter the counters. Newspaper sections cover the table. Laundry, if there was time to do it, is either forgotten and soggy in the washer or loitering in the dryer, sometimes for days. Laundry that managed to get removed from the dryer is probably doing its time in a laundry basket somewhere. Junk mail is piled on the table. Lucia’s books cover the couch. There are bills to pay, trash to take out, plants to water, the flotsam of everyday life to be returned to its proper place.
I don’t have time to do any of it. Even with Andrew diving into the mix as soon as he gets home from work, the house sometimes seems to stay one step ahead of us.
And we have just one kid.
Comments