Domestically Disabled

Being a stay at home mom doesn't mean I have the skills of a 1950s housewife. . . and I certainly do not. I love staying home because it's great to spend my days watching my son discover the world

around him and be able to see his 'first' everythings, but along with this comes the duty of actually keeping the house in some orderly enough condition that I don't throw temper tantrums alongside my child. The cooking part I have adapted to fairly easily, learning simple recipes that keep my family fed and not pressuring myself to be Julia Child.

The cleaning part on the other hand . . .
I have a bit of a procrastination problem when it comes to keeping the house clean. While other people do not enjoy cleaning tasks yet see them as a part of life and do them anyway, I spend my time trying to think up ways I can get out of them even though I know from previous experience that it inevitably needs to be done. Like vacuuming for instance. We have a lot of stairs in our home, all of which are carpeted, and I think it's a pain in the butt to clean them. So instead, I wait until they visibly need to be done, then wait a few more days until I'm embarrassed to have people over, then wait another week for good measure. . . a perfect system? maybe not . . . perhaps I can train my son to take over the chore?

Ya gotta have skills

Of the many skills I imagined I would need as a parent, the one that seems most useful currently, that I would never have thought of, is calf-roping. Seriously.

Changing my son's diaper looks nothing like this angelic meeting of the minds and is in reality much closer to this cowboy and his calf in the rodeo ring. It is an all-out battle of the wills that has to happen up to EIGHT times a day! ( oy!)
I feel totally ill-prepared for such daily war.

If only I'd worked on a farm in my youth like my mother would have wanted . . .