I'm a terrible house wife. Fact.
Every day my mind heaves with the torment of self-inflicted* pressure. Pressure to do more chores; pressure to be a better mama; pressure to look better; pressure to be a better person. Suffice it to say, I don't get a whole lot of this stuff done. I barely scrape through the day, some days, and that's ok.... to an extent.
When Chuck naps, I walk from room to room assessing the amount of chores to do in each room and set about trying to tackle the mountainous amount of work required to get our house 'in order'. I fail each and every day. The little things take SO. LONG. I swear I spend 95% of my available time wiping food from the floor, folding clothes and making [another] coffee. And then he's awake again, and we go back to the beginning of the list. Again.
I'm not complaining. Far from it. I just wish I was better, more efficient. Useful in fact.
I dont want to be one of those clean-freak moms [fat chance of that ever happening really] but I dont want my boy growing up in chaos either. I want us all to be able to enjoy our limited space better, and lord knows living a clutter-free life can be cathartic. I still have aspirations of a minimalist lifestyle - one day. Or at least, one day I'll have enough cupboard space to make it look like we live a life of minimalism.
I'd like to make some headway though. I just don't know where to start. Or really how to get there.
Being a mama is supposed to make you organised so how come I still cant figure out enough time in my day to wash my hair?
*It is self-inflicted but I really should do better, right? I mean, I just should iron when I'm exhausted, right? That's what other mothers do, right?
The day that changed everything. The day I found out I'm going to be a mom.
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