After almost 4 years of motherhood, the constant quest to “do it all” has finally lost its luster. My second child was born in June of last year, and needless to say the transition was not a simple one. She had a milk protein allergy and severe acid reflux that we did not discover for about 2 months. Thus, she was fairly miserable every moment for about the first nine weeks of her life.
Prior to the birth of my second child, I would have considered myself a perfectionist. My house always needed to be straight (which don’t get me wrong, it still does), dinner on the table by the time my husband got home, laundry done, folded, put away, everything in its place, all after working a nine hour day.
I was so desperate for that perfection that I was willing to sacrifice my own happiness to have the beds made every day. The irony is, my husband never minded a mess a day in his life, and Elizabeth Ann certainly would rather me play with her than fold laundry. I was trying to be a “homemaker” instead of making a home. Even as I write this at this very moment, it seems so silly that I need to have bottles made and lunches ready with military precision every night.
Born and raised in the south and inundated with the surrounding culture that feels reminiscent of 1954, women have been expected to have chores done, cookies baking, and children fed all by the time their fathers get home. Couple that with the expectations for women in 2016, and your head might spin.
The question becomes, who are we doing this all for? Other women? Our husbands? To prove to ourselves that we can?
Again, I haven’t abandoned this need to be perfect completely, but it’s just not realistic. It’s amazing what happens when you become less distracted by the sippy cups left out and the dishes in the sink, and become focused on coloring with your 3-year-old and teaching your 9-month-old “The Wheels on the Bus.”
I’ve always laughed when I’ve read the quote “babies don’t keep” which refers to the laundry and mess that is hard to set that aside (especially for me). But it’s so accurate … especially for a person like myself that wants everything to be just right.
So, what’s the solution for someone with self-diagnosed O.C.D. like myself?
Well, I’m not quite sure yet, but I’ll let you know when I find it. For now, I’ll keep playing the lottery so I can afford my full-time housekeeper and chef, but until then the dog-hair tumbleweeds will roll, the laundry will stay in the basket for a few days, and the dishwasher will be filled to the brim because I’m busy making a home.
