Tunnel Vision

Well, here it is quarter 'til midnight, and I'm sitting at the computer because then my back is turned to the DISASTER LURKING BEHIND AND ALL AROUND ME. There, that feels better.  No secrets here.  Everything out in the open. And when I say everything, I mean everything.  Like all of the boxes that we moved from the old house (that is a slight exagerration-a lot of the kitchen boxes were unpacked right away.  But everything else...lurks).  And all of our towels because I haven't been able to get the bathroom shelves clean yet.  And the toys.  And the books.  And the clothes that have not made their way into closets, dressers, or armoires (for the record, moving has not solved my clean-laundry-problem; you could read about that elsewhere on this blog if ever your heart desired to be informed of such a thing).  There is a tripod keeled over right behind me.  I need to put that away before it is broken (I'm sure we have no use for a bi-pod).  There is a cute little lamp peeking out from behind some boxes, waiting to be perched somewhere, in order to offer a tiny spot of light.  There is a broken doll table I've been meaning to fix for a couple of months now; it survived the move without further damage.   There are garbage bags of toys that were hiding beneath furniture over there.  Bathroom boxes, plastic Easter eggs, shoes. My kitchen is cleaned up, though. See, I have to keep telling myself,"Look at what you did do."  Otherwise, I would be so sad.  The regular, everyday stuff takes so much time.  And I am not even managing to get those things done well, either.  It can make a person feel...inadequate. Then there is a rush of folks saying,"Don't be so hard on yourself!  Look at what's going on all around you!  You have so much on your plate!" I wish I had a piece of chocolate cake on my plate; how about that? I know there is a lot going on.  Mike is busting his buns to get everything out of our old house and over here, as well as helping get this house clean (which, if you know me, you can understand what a ridiculous task that is-I know I make things complicated...but that's me).  I'm trying to keep Eliana out of the bucket of cleaning water while cleaning shelves (this house has three thousand built-in bookshelves, and I want to clean them all-that takes time, you know?), feed Michaela, because she wants to eat something small six times a day (who told her about that eating plan, anyway?), play games with Christian while Eliana naps in the afternoon so that he gets some attention and has a positive thing to do... I feel like normal people can do all these things while unpacking, redecorating, organizing, gardening, grocery-shopping, planning and cooking large and nutritious meals, making meals for the folks in the community or church who are in need, remembering all the things they need to do for the stuff going on at their kids' school, getting the laundry done and put away, feeding the homeless, teaching their children good manners, cleaning the toilet regularly, ironing the clothes, picking up the dry cleaning (on the way to the grocery store, because these people are efficient), mending the holes in pants and socks, building a new coffee table and headboard in their spare time, and painting their toenails on top of all that. Um, did I brush my teeth today?  Yes!  I did do that. I know that there is a light at the end of that tunnel.  But the tunnel seems so long.  Can I borrow a flashlight for now (ours is in a box somewhere...)?

Comments

[Mindee@ourfrontdoor]

If it makes you feel better, I am also not "normal people". Any time I start to think I don't like my house, I think of the work of moving and get over it because I would be JUST where you are. There would be no meals or laundry or helped homeless here either.

[Michael]

Well, at least your husband is a completely normal, omni-competent, always-on-time, always patient not to mention efficient counterpart. Right?

[Shannon]

See, you should have moved to New Jersey! I'd help you unpack :-)

But, I'm sure you are getting more of those things accomplished than you realize.