I’m never quite sure if i judge myself over harshly or over generously against what I perceive other mums and wives do.
I know i’m a crap housewife. I just don’t see the point. I grew up with a mum who was verging OCD (and still does) on the clean and tidy front. She cleaned every day. Everything was dusted, wiped, hoovered, ironed. Even her hands would smell of bleach. I’d ninja my way through the kitchen trying not to touch the surfaces because then my hands would stink of bleach too.
Don’t get me wrong i’m not at all dirty i’m just scruffy and a tad untidy. I hardly ever dust, it just seems to attract more dust an hour later. Besides, the only things that get really dusty are the tv/dvd player/top set box etc. Hubz hoovers the lounge about twice a week and the rest of the house maybe once a week. We’re a family of soon to be six with two house cats, no matter what you do it will always look like it needs doing again minutes later. The bathroom gets cleaned about once a week, the kitchen worktops and table are cleaned with anti-bac wipes every time I use them. We don’t own an iron. The lounge gets tidied at the end of the day because for everything you put away the kids will only get out ten more. Hubz does the washing, I just sort it out when it’s dry. He does the pots. Once a month or so all the big toys downstairs get cleaned.
I lack energy and motivation due to mental health issues and M.E. Often hubz needs to remind me to put the pots away or the laundry because it genuinely doesn’t occur to me to do it most of the time. Things tht bother most people housework wise just don’t touch on my radar. I’m too trapped within myself remembering to breath and move and speak etc.
Untidiness doesn’t bother me even half as much as it should.
I’m a stay at home mum, i should be doing good wifely things ensuring the home is spick and span yet I don’t see the point. It just looks like crap again shortly after. We have very little storage, lots of furnature is second hand, the paintwork is peeling away, the gloss is all chipped, most things are old or broken. Does it matter? Why shouldn’t a house look lived in?
It’s the same with parenting. I’m rubbish at playing. I’m entranced by the youngest games, the worlds he creates and plays within yet I have an inability to join in.
He potters about the front room playing with toys and chatting to me whilst I potter about online or crochet etc . I’m always here with him, in the same room. He gets my attention as soon as he asks it most of the time. Occasionally we’ll both pause whilst we read together or watch something together or even just have a cuddle because he’s secure with my presence to know i’m here, should he need to touch base. He never has to look for me and as such he is extraordinarily proficient at entertaining himself and playing. Sometimes we’ll do jigsaws, colouring, building or play cards together then we’ll go back to doing our own thing. We always eat together. We exist together. It’s been this way with all of them and surely it can’t be that wrong as I have three very articulate, happy, creative, secure, confident children.
On occasion i’ll do one of those good-mum things and set up some sensory messy activity and try not to break out into hives whilst watching.
Surely existing at home is no better or worse then other woman who feel the need to not be at home all the time who intentionally go shopping, or to groups or out to lunch just to not have to be at home alone with a child all day? Aren’t we just different sides of the same coin?
It might appear like I do nothing but sometimes just being there/here is underestimated on the positive impact it can have on a child’s security and attachment.
I’m not a preschool teacher, i’m no good at rallying the troops and instigating play activities. Then again I think it’s a good thing that children can entertain themselves, that they don’t become reliant on adults to direct and inspire their play.
The tidier you make your house the tidier you have to keep it. I don’t want my child playing alone, looking up to find no eyes to meet his own, to have noone to randomly babble at because i’m too busy bleaching the grouting and ironing curtains. Don’t get me wrong I do sort of envy the house proud, the good housewives, those with immaculate houses but i’m just not programmed that way. Maybe i’m just lazy? I’m probably just a slattern. I just find it hard to be bothered, to see a point in it. It seems futile to me.
I always feel like I don’t do enough, that i’m not enough, as a mum and a wife. I hold myself up against imaginary others and find myself lacking. Yet I can’t seem to change, to improve. To be better.
I spend far too much time online, always have.
I should be doing other stuff, yet I don’t.
I don’t really go anywhere, see anyone or do anything. I don’t actually even exist in most aspects.
Yet am I really as crap as I think I am? I could be better but does that actually mean i’m crap?
I don’t even know where i’m going with this all the thoughts are balled and knotted in my head and failing to make words.
I guess i’m wondering, if there’s very little I physically do, would it actually matter if I wasn’t here? Is my presence enough? Does presence make up for lack of action?
I know my husband and kids could do better and deserve better yet in my huge lacking self, my barely there existence, perhaps on some level I am enough? I don’t even know. I don’t really know anything anymore.
Is there something inbetween adequate and crap?