Therapy Thursday

Okay, today's gripe...cleaning house. I am (I think) a neat freak trapped in a procrastinator's body. I hate hate hate clutter, but I live amid clutter. This was not always the case. I am an organizer at heart. Given a day to work on a closet full of disorganized junk, I can do an HGTV quality makeover. I love the feeling of accomplishment. I think better when things are organized, I am in a better mood, I am at peace. So why is my house not organized? In a word-children.


I was a housewife prior to being a mother. Our house was organized, neat, dinner on the table when hubby got home...the whole nine yards. But while I may have recovered from childbirth, our house never did. Toys are constantly out, clothes everywhere and let's not discuss the dirty dishes. I can literally put away all the toys in the afternoon and within one hour it does not look like I did anything.

It's like vacuuming. Vacuuming used to be my favorite household chore. What looks better than freshly vacuumed carpet? Now after the floor is vacuumed both kids lay on it and make carpet angels, then proceed to put toys, scraps of paper, and books all over it to hide the newly vacuumed carpet.

Aha! Maybe this is why I procrastinate cleaning. I know the results won't last. For example, Sunday we are having a small get together for little m's first birthday (her first party got postponed). I am not even attempting to clean the toys until that morning. And for added security I am moving all the toys upstairs, so they can't crawl back out onto the floor so quickly.

I don't mean for this post to sound ungrateful. I love that I have two stong healthy kids that have the ability to make chaos. I love that the first thing they do when I finish putting their books on the shelf is to sit in front of the bookcase and take them all out again, looking over each one like it's a lost treasure.

For the record, I know what you are thinking. "Teach your children to clean up after themselves." Yes, I'm going to get right on that. I just need to sort the laundry first, go through this stack of mail and catch up on at least one year of sleep.