I have been known on the odd occasion, when having thoughts like "I'm sick and tired of being the maid around here," whilst viciously vacuuming around toys, to feel a perverse pleasure upon hearing the plastic rattle of a lego piece disappearing up the hoover hose.
"O Dear," I sarcastically mutter inside my mind. "Oops."
This dastardly moment of cruelty does not improve my mood. More often than not I sink further into harried fury. Not road rage. Rug rage. Resentment quicksand can then threaten the next few hours.
Rewind nine years to me as a single thirty five year old talking to a girlfriend.. "I just feel like I have all this love inside me and I need somewhere to put it. I want a family of my own to love and take care of!"
All that love inside me needs remembering in a daily, round the house kind of way so I've made a few small changes and am so far pleased with the results.
I have asked my husband to cook dinner every Sunday night. This is to include checking supplies, deciding what to make without asking me and shopping if necessary. Don't get me wrong, my man is a star around the house but somehow I'd let myself become "the cook." He is the main breadwinner, so it makes sense during the week that I cook for the family but having that 4 - 6pm time at the weekend has been expansive and liberating as I consider whether I want to tidy a drawer, play with my boys, ring my Mum or do nothing much at all. John has been loving it, cranking up the barbie and hand rolling fresh pasta.
I allow more time for housework. I'm not sure how I got the idea that it was reasonable to expect to have all the beds made, things put away, benches gleaming, washing hung out and floors shining ( not with puddles of milk, or worse ) all before strolling out the door for school drop off at 8.30. In my house the reality is often that the place looks as if it has been burgled and I am hollering down the hallway single words like "Shoes!" "Lunch!" "Bookbag!" Housekeeping and mothering was once considered a job. It does us good to drop the high expectations.
After a recent illness I have a bit more time on my hands and I can say in the same sentence that I am a feminist who enjoys housekeeping when there is the time, space and mindset to do it. Feminism and well-being go together I think. I love it when my home is fresh and clean with baking in the tins and flowers in the vases. I love it when I have time to keep order. For me, a well kept T shirt drawer or pantry is a beautiful sight and experience.
I am getting firmer in encouraging my boys to tidy. More often I'm using "When you've tidied up your toys, drawing, shoes, bag, clothes, afternoon tea dishes.... you can watch TV." Otherwise Iblast tidy up tunes like Ghostbusters and Happy. They're getting better at it. Slowly.
I practise mindful housework. When I remember to, I become present to my tasks. The airy, warm popping rainbow bubbles of the washing up sink, the steam scented out breath of the iron, the soft woven colours of the quilts that have that have comforted my beloveds. As I dwell in the moment, feelings of love for my Darlings and gratitude for my good fortune often appear and peace washes through me.
I've upped the self care. Small adjustments. More baths, early nights, knitting and naps. Less social media and screen time in general.
Work, child care, housekeeping and cooking can lead to resentful, tired overwhelm. Delegating, lowering our expectations, practicing mindful housework and self care can deliver us back to our natural feelings of love and nurture. Lego and I are friends once more.