Every time I work in my garden I find myself thinking this: The woman who pulls weeds has inherited double the curse.
Lest you think farmers have all the fun, the curse refers to a futility common to all endeavors. Wherever one tries to put out fires, others flare up. Eliminate one knotty problem, and something else falls apart.
I contend that women share that curse, as well.
At least, the Enemy wants me to believe I do.
I do pull weeds better than the average person. I pride myself on that.
But housework? Talk about a sense of futility. No sooner do I get the dishes clean than it's time to make dinner. No sooner do I get all the laundry folded and put away in one fell swoop than we have company or someone wets their bed (not me!) or the kids decide to spend the afternoon throwing mud at one another down by the pond.
Oh, and I was kidding about the weeds. No sooner do I pull them than they come back. Like, within a week. I really hate weeds.
I spun around today, feeling my usual unfocused, low-productive self.
I missed my #hellomornings tweetup. Wow do I love those girls and the accountability they give me, and I felt the loss of my morning quiet time all day long.
I didn't shower, never even dressed. I couldn't manage to do a simple errand for my honey, so he had to go do it himself. I didn't clean bathrooms, mow the yard, or pull any weeds.
And just to kick me in the gut a little more, Lulu's lovey got left in the car after dinner and went to the movies with Daddy by mistake. We have had a very tearful evening around here, and all of us are ready for Daddy to return with the lovey so we can all go to sleep. Intellectually, I just do not have what I want in order to be instructive in this moment. Feels like futility.
But today I suddenly had a glimmer that maybe I shoulder more of this futile sense than I should. Because the rest of the picture shows:
I took Rooster to school on a not-my-turn-to-carpool day, and picked up milk on my way home. And took out trash. And made my bed.
I worked with Boo on math facts, poetry, cursive, volume, and molecules.
I played phonics games with Lulu and read to her. I also managed to include her in some of Boo's math work, so she could feel part of school without disrupting it.
I watered the garden; emptied the dishwasher; cleaned off the counters; mopped the kitchen floor; vacuumed; and folded and put away laundry.
I then suggested we eat out, to prolong the experience of a clean kitchen.
I allowed the big kids to play down the street by the pond for an hour before bedtime. Followed by which I singlehandedly bathed all three children before bed, as hubby had dropped us off from dinner and gone back out to see a movie with some friends.
And I realized that upon combining today's accomplishments with my victory from earlier this week of getting the two kids' rooms clean, not to mention Tuesday's task of finally tending to the freezer after the great Unplugging Debacle of February (just guess--you don't really need a story), I could just clean bathrooms tomorrow and have a nice clean house. As long as you don't count my room.
In short, I don't really know how I accomplished so much today.
Of course for a truly deep clean I'd have to address baseboards, cubbyholes, and use a fair amount of Lemon Pledge--but that's the voice of the Enemy again, whispering Futility in my ear.
The voice of Hope says, Look at all you did accomplish today. It may not have looked like the stellar superstar TV moms make it look, but my day worked out far from futile. The Enemy is a big fat liar, and I choose not to listen to him today. And that's where I want to put my thoughts to sleep. Because now that Daddy is home with the lovey and all the children are finally asleep, I am outta here.