Good Enough
**Update**
I so totally just lied to you all! Apparently I did care after all, because the first thing was stand up and start folding laundry. However I didn't care *that* much because I am now back here blogging and simultaneously conning my children into doing all the things I don't want to do :) I'm so good at my job.

This post is a totally 'woah' post for me. Today I have a migraine. They've been coming more frequently recently, but as it's late spring, early summer, it's about that time. I'm sitting on my couch, listening to music, catching up on blogs and news and just being. There are mounds of clean clothes next to me. There are mounds of dirty clothes on my bedroom floor. There's a load in the was and a load in the dryer. Finished, of course, and in need of being moved. My children are *not* cleaning their rooms, even though they're supposed to be. The dishes could probably be put away. The pool needs cleaning. The floor needs mopped. Listen very carefully as I say this only once. Ready? I DO NOT CARE!

Yep, I said it, I don't care. I'm what you would call a perfectionist. It is not enough for me to simply put away the dishes. If I do that, I'd need to clean the kitchen. But the dining room would be a mess, and so on and so on. If I'm going to clean the house, I'll have to do the whole thing, and that's so very overwhelming for me. So I rarely ever do it and my house is in a constant state of mass confusion. I generally know where everything is though, so it's okay. It used to really bother me that my house is so chaotic and messy. I always felt like I wasn't doing my job, or that I was being lazy. However, in the last few months I've started to come to terms with the messiness in my life. I have a life to live, it's just going to have to be messy for a while. I can not do everything on my own, and the kids certainly don't help that often. I guess I don't really care if there are clothes all over the place, or clean dishes dried on the counter ready to be put away. My kids are happy. They're so loved. They smart and creative. They are flourishing. My husband is happy, and settled here in our new home. We love being with each other and if we were busy cleaning all the time we wouldn't have time to be with each other, and trust me, it would take all of our time to keep up with this brood!

Add on top of all of that the depression and dealing with all of this mess in my life and in my head and I've come to the conclusion that I have a right to a dirty house :) I have every right to sit in my yard with my dirt covered kids wrapped in my husbands arms and watch the sun set. I'm pretty sure the laundry will still be there tomorrow. Or next week. Or however long it takes me to get it cleaned and put away. And some day, when my kids are out on their own and there is no one to destroy what I clean 20 minutes after I clean it, then I can sit in my clean house and listen to the silence. I prefer the giggles, anyway :)

Okay and as this wasn't quite as profound or eloquent as I imagined it would be when I started it, I'm going to smile, feel good enough, just this once, and go find something fun to do. Maybe I will clean out the pool after all. At least then I can swim :)

Love to all
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  • I'm a wife. I'm a mom. I'm a photographer. I'm a lover of Jesus. My house is a mess, my kids are dirty, we eat take out more often than not. My life is loud, busy and crazy. And that's okay with me.
    This is Eric, the man you've been praying for. He's a paramedic. He quilts in his spare time. No, I couldn't make that up :) He has NASH (a form of liver disease, non-alcoholic) and diabetes, but those things don't define him. He's a man of God, an insanely wonderful husband, and the best daddy in the world.. Just ask these guys..
    Our daughter Ali, she's 9. She's fiercely opinionated and strong willed. She's a Daddy's girl, but the umbilical cord hasn't but cut from me, either. She's a gymnast, and proud of it. She spends more time upside down or turning flips than she does walking. She's crazy smart, and absolutely sure of it. She is my insufferable little know it all.
    Our son Dylan, 7. We lovingly refer to him as Chubs. Or Chubby. Or fat boy. Ahem. He is all boy, as you can see by his crazy wild energy. He has the highest pain tolerance of any child I have ever met. He plays soccer and does gymnastics, but truly he is a gamer, a nerd. He is an avid reader and loves to climb. Not to be outdone by his sister, he's a drama king, but to him, I'm the best mommy in the world.