As I sit here, my mischievous little one-year-old is behind me, playing in the baker’s rack. He crawling on top of the cast iron griddle, and banging the lids of the pots together. He’s so loud and Jack is sleeping but Jack sleeps through everything and I’m just happy that Forrest is happy.
I’m munching on carrots and peanut butter because I am sotired this afternoon and I what I want is to eat vanilla yogurt with my homemade granola, but I know that the sugar will only make me more tired.
Sometimes I think an attitude adjustment is a really clever thing to talk about, and then it occurs to me that I pretty much need an attitude adjustment every week. But isn’t that a good thing? I don’t know a whole lot, but I do know that I never want to become complacent. So I think I’m okay with frequent attitude adjustments, and the fact that they’re not really anything new.
This week, I’ve come to the understanding that I have to stop looking at housework as something to complete. It’s never complete, and treating it as if it is only causes me more stress. Housework is…never ending, but purposeful, and the only reason I have housework to do is because I’m taking care of a family – my family. That’s a really, really good reason to do housework. So, no, my housework isn’t complete once the bathroom and kitchen are cleaned, the floors are swept, the laundry picked up and the toys are put away. There’s always more. And it’s always good. Homemaking isn’t a verb as much as it is a state of being. You know? I am a wife and a mama and I make my home. Every day. All day long. And it’s just lovely.