Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Where Our Chores Go to Die

I hate...I mean, with a passion so deep it's evident to all...I hate this poem:
 

I think the reason I am so passionately opposed to this poem is because in its simplest form it is supposed to invoke thoughts of sweetness and love for the special calling of motherhood. However, all it does is invoke feelings of pure guilt. 
I started feeling agitated about this poem again today while sitting down for 5 minutes to eat my lunch. I know, I know. I am a fairly rotten excuse for a mom to actually want to eat lunch. However, it was the first time I had sat down to do something that was strictly, only beneficial for me all day.  All morning I had been cleaning up after my sweet tornadoes. Doing dishes in the dishwasher, washing some by hand, unloading the dishwasher, loading it again, making toffee for Kids Wow tonight, helping with homework, helping my 5 year old write a little book, feed everyone their 15 breakfasts, feeding them lunch, having a friend over to play, mediating spats between brothers, trying to keep my volcanic 4 year old from errupting, folding tons and tons and tons of laundry that I'm still not finished putting away. And yet, because I was apparently not spending quality time with my 4 year old he had to behave in such a way that would require attention.
Any parent knows exactly what I'm talking about.
Literally, I can hear the voice in HIS head, "Idiot switch-activate." It truly is unbelievable.
Play with Resolve? Why not!
Run outside in the snow and ice without shoes or socks? Don't mind if I do.
Try to climb into the refrigerator with no regard to what Cherry taught us on Punky Brewster? Sounds like a plan!
So here I am desperately trying to accomplish things that are my job! I chose to stay at home. I wouldn't want it any other way. But with that comes a lot of responsibility. And it is insulting to tell a mom that she should put her responsibilities on hold. That wouldn't be acceptable in any other line of work!
"Um yes doctor, please put the scalpel down and come cuddle with your child. That surgery can wait."
"Fortune 500 company CEO, yes, that board meeting needs to be put on hold. The center of your universe needs attention-NOW!"
"Yeah, I'm sorry. I can't pay my bills today or tomorrow or ever. I couldn't work, I was snuggling."
I know I am being slightly melodramatic. I have that tendency sometimes. But why is what I do less important than what anyone else does? This poem makes me feel that way, like my responsibilities of feeding my kids and not allowing them to go to school in dirty clothes, or live in squaller isn't extremely important.  This only stirs mother's guilt in me that I'm not DOING enough.  As a mom we are expected to be hands-on all the time: activity directors for our kids, coaches, teachers, entertainers, jungle gyms, cuddlers, great story tellers, room moms, PTO presidents, great cooks, and awesome wives. Oh, and you have to be in shape too.
I know that people won't agree with me. That's ok. I'm not asking you to. I am just simply stating what I believe is absurd. Because I'll tell you what, I'll show you what happens when "cooking and cleaning wait till tomorrow..."
 
 
You get a room FULL of "tomorrow's" chores.  This is where our chores go to die.  All clean laundry. None of it ever getting put away.

So THIS dear author of that miserable poem
 is why cooking and cleaning can't wait.
Stuff has to get done in our beautiful home
Because messes don't wait to accumulate.
 
Off to do more laundry,
The Joyful and Tired Mom


1 comment:

  1. This makes me laugh because I LOVE this poem! My mom has had it cross stitched in and framed in her house for decades! Keep in mind she says "Dust and cobwebs" can wait. Clearly she doesn't mean laundry and dishes--just the chores that show whether you can afford a cleaning lady :)

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