A kind neighbor that we don't know very well stopped by my house today to offer me some vegetables from her garden. My kids, unknowingly to me, answered the door. At that moment, G started screaming. I scooped him up off the changing pad, in just his diaper, and made my way past the swim floaties, puddle jumper, skateboard, empty box, and freestanding fan that have found a home in my hallway. I avoided the backpacks and the sneakers that were abandoned the second their owners came through the door. I glanced at the table that still had the remains of lunch and a Nalgene bottle serving as a vase for a beloved sunflower.
When I finally made it to the door, I looked down and realized I was wearing the same clothes I had worn to the gym earlier that morning. Which means I smelled the same as I had when I left the gym that morning.
All I kept thinking as this wonderful woman was telling me about her bountiful garden was "please don't look past me into my house. Please don't look into the pit of despair."
Being a stay-at-home mom can be awesome. It can also set you up for a lot of guilt and unreasonable expectations. It could stand to reason that if you're home all day, your house should be clean. Or atleast the spaces that neighbors can see if they peer over your shoulder while standing in the doorway.
By 4:00 p.m. beds should be made, laundry that was washed on Saturday should be put away, and you should know what your family is having for dinner.
That was not the case today.
And it's not because I had an overwhelming or stressful day. The kids were relatively well behaved, although admittedly a tad bit eager to bring every book, car, and baby doll into the living room.
The truth of the matter is that I started reading a book after lunch and other then putting the girls down for rest, I did nothing else but read. And you know what? It was a good book. And after I finished it it, I cuddled with my two youngest children, put the laundry away and cleaned up my living room.
The beds can wait until tomorrow.