House Chores

I love staying home with my babyson.
I love his sweet face first thing in the morning, when he hasn't quite decided whether he's awake or asleep. I love his little giggles and coos, and the fact that it cracks him up every time I try to get him to say "mama." I love that he's chunking up enough that he has little butt dimples that I catch a glimpse of when I'm carrying his little naked self to the bathtub.

But can I just be real for a minute? There's something I seriously hate about saying home. It's a major problem, and I find myself pushed a little to the edge this evening.

I hate house chores. Ohhhhh, I hate them. I hate them even more than doing the Jillian Michaels Shred by myself every day. Only, I can shut that DVD off after 20 minutes and be finished with it. House chores are never finished. They just stretch out into eternity, and the worst part is, you don't even get paid to do your own house chores. You're just obligated because otherwise you have to live in your own filth (the very idea gives me chills).

I've tried to divide them up into days to make them less overwhelming. But then I spend the night before thinking about the horrid punishment in store for me when I wake up the next morning. For example, I've designated Thursday as dog bath day. Do I want to give my dogs a bath? Heck no. I'd rather just open the front door and let them be free because all they ever do is track more mess into the house, and I'm about to have to add a third vacuuming day just because of them... (Okay, you know me better than that - I'd never let my dogs run away, and I now feel slightly guilty for saying that...)

I have this fantasy about paper clothes. On laundry day, you'd get your husband up and lay out his paper suit and tie. You'd clothe yourself in a cute (but not too cute - you know where it's headed at the end of the day) little pleated paper dress, and then put your baby into an adorable paper onesie and overalls (with an extra on hand for the inevitable mid-day poo up the back). Then you'd wash every single bit of laundry in the house. And the best part would be the end of the day, when all the laundry is put up, and everyone simply throws away their paper clothes, and you officially have no laundry left to do the next day. It would be a perfect world, if only for that evening.

You may have noticed I'm down in the housewife dumps tonight. Never fear. I'll awake tomorrow all cheer and sunshine and go-get'em, fold the load of laundry I left in the dryer, tackle those dog baths, hopefully work out, even more hopefully actually have time for a shower, make a delicious dinner and clean up the kitchen... all the while keeping up with Milo and giving him all the attention he needs. And tomorrow I'm hoping I feel a lot less sullen about it.

So from little old Lufkin, Texas, good-night. Hope your dreams are sweet and house-chore free.