My husband is a good man.He puts up with A LOT. He and I are opposite in so many ways.
He is a detail man. Aneverything-has-a-place-man. Anif-you-put-things-right-back-where-you-found-them-we-wouldnt-have-this-problem-man.
I am NOT.
I try. I really do. But I am more of a free spirit when it comes to organization, especially when it comes to housework. And, of course, my husband is essentially right.(Albeit in a housework-utopian-society-kind-of-way.)As for me, there is always SOMETHING that comes up to thwart my efforts.
Lets go on a journey through 10 minutes of the mess and chaos of my life shall we?
A prime example a pair of my running shoes that had not yet made it back into the closet. Theoretically, I should have been able to take them off my feet and toss them into the closet. Sorry, honey, I meant “lay them gently into the designated running shoe cubby.”
Whathappened instead was a free for all.
I took them off. However, at that precise moment, one of my youngsters decided toyell dramatically from the other room. I sprinted over to themonly to find that theywere pounding each other over a Lite Bright design. (You read that right. A Lite Bright design.) I settled the argument and noticed hundreds of aforementioned Lite Bright pieces all over the floor. (Dad wont be amused by that.)So we made a game of it and picked them up together. In the middle of that effort the phone rang. On the other line was a friend reminding methat it wasmy turn to bring snacks to soccer. I quickly ran down the stairs (panic attack) to see if I had anything that would qualify as a snack. (Nope!) I mentally put it on the list of things to do. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the laundry was finished. So I put a new load in, took the other out and begin folding it.
Not two minutes later theboys came running inasking for a drinkwhich they proceeded to immediately spill EVERYWHERE. I begun cleaning up the mess but quickly switched gears to dishes-mode becauseI couldn’t put the juice cups away due to the OVERFLOWING SINK containing dirty dishes.
I was halfway through this task when thehusbandcame home.
What did he see?Kitchen a mess. Sticky floor. Laundry in piles. Lite Bright pieces everywhere.(Because they decided to dump them out again while I was working on dishes.)
And then, in a cruel twist of fate, the man tripped over my shoes.
Yes, THOSE SHOES.
The ones that should have been put away as soon as I took them off my feet.
And the man wonders why I can never seem to put anything away…
NOTE: This is a repost from my blog back in a time whenthe boys were young and they still played with things like Lite Brite and toy cars. (Mammas with little ones will surely relate.)