Okay, so my house isn't surviving the work week very well. I come home, it's a wreck, house looks like a laundromat exploded, yada yada yada. Too tired, crabby, whatever, to start right in the moment I get home, and besides, first there's supper to get.
DH tries at least to have the children clean up after themselves during the day, but he's not exactly aware of housekeeping practices, KWIM? (At least he never complains!  Gotta love that guy.) The house doesn't even meet my standards of cleanliness anymore, and that's saying a lot. (With 7 people living all day, every day in a 1,600 sq. ft. area, you learn to let a lot go.) I wasn't the greatest housekeeper before taking off to work, even with the help of gurus such as Flylady. My flybuddies at The New Homemaker could tell you that all this sounds soooo familiar!
Last night, I exploded at the kids because they weren't picking up as I had instructed them to. Well, I shouldn't lump them together, really. My big girl (age 9) does try, but the others just don't get very far before they start lagging. Seriously lagging. Yes, it was getting late and we were all tired. (Of course, it wouldn't have been quite so late if they'd done what I asked immediately.) Now, obviously it was not right for me to lose my temper, nor was it right for the littles to disobey me. There just has to be a better way than being stressed by mess all the time. Although, maybe (apparently) I'm the only one who's stressed by it?
Yesterday I memorized Matthew 6:24-34, in which Jesus asks, "Is not life more important than food and the body more important than clothes?" I wonder if housekeeping falls into that same category of practical, even necessary, but incidental aspects of life. What should my attitude towards housekeeping be? Obviously, food, clothing and cleanliness are needed, but they aren't of central importance. We're supposed to "seek first the kingdom of God"--and displays of frustration and temper don't exactly fit the description of "righteousness, peace, and joy." I shouldn't worry over housekeeping any more than I should our paycheck or grocery bill.
Yet it has to be done. We have to eat, we have to have clothes to wear, and it would be kinda nice if the house didn't smell bad. And I'm just not here to do it.
Flylady's routines are great, but I'm not sure how to make them work with the short window of time I have morning and evening. Merely getting supper seems to take up the whole evening. Often, I don't get a meal on the table until 7:30! Clean-up--interspersed with bedtime routines for 5 children--puts my bedtime around 11:30 or midnight, which doesn't exactly facilitate a decent wake-up time next morning.
And frankly, I sometimes wonder if Flylady gets it--because my house really does get this way overnight! I do not exaggerate. Just as soon as the handprints are cleaned off the windows, they are back again. As soon as the garbage cans are emptied, they are full again. The table and counters need wiping 3-4 times a day, the kitchen needs thrice-daily sweeping and at least daily mopping, and the house really needs a daily vacuuming, if you can get to the carpet under all the stuff littering it. Piles of papers magically reappear every evening, even after I file and toss. Literally five mintues after I scrub the toilet, another little boy "misses" and it needs cleaning again. No need to describe the laundry cycle; we all know what that's like, regardless of family size.
This is turning into a really long whine. Yes, I'd like some cheese with that.  Ha ha!
Really, though, my intention is not to whine, but to figure out the "will of the Father" as regards my housekeeping efforts. If he cares about sparrows, surely he cares about my dirty carpets too. Or anyway, he cares that it bothers me and he doesn't want me disrupting my relationships over it. I do know that much.
I keep thinking the right schedule, the right plan, the right whatever will stop me from feeling overwhelmed, but so far I haven't found it. Maybe I need to look elsewhere, somewhere in the region of my heart. After all, dirt never killed anybody. If it did, we'd certainly be six feet under by now. (You should see my kids tonight. They've been playing outside in the infamous Georgia red clay. They are positively orange!  )
Today, I was memorizing Ephesians 4:29, and reading it in context. I read the verse about singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord. I sure would like to have a song of joy in my heart, instead of frustration. I should be able to sing to him no matter the surroundings. Probably it's just a matter of doing it, out of obedience.
If I get a good answer after taking this matter to prayer, I'll try to post it!
(Too long again...will try to be briefer in the future. But just consider this my "Thoughtful Spot.") |
