I want to be the kind of mother who finds sweetness in servitude... but, alas, I am not. No matter how much I try to sweeten it up, the drudgery of housework, chores and routine just gets to me every single time.
Recently I've realised that this might actually be more of a problem than I think it is.
I've always known that an easygoing friendship with mess is critical when you're a mum of three. I'm an organised, mostly tidy sort of person but I've always had a reasonably high tolerance for disarray (you should see my car!) because I really don't like cleaning up very much.
All fine, you say. We're all a bit like that.
Well, lately I've found myself aborting family moments because I am already loathing the thought of cleaning up afterwards before life even happens.
No, you can't get the paints out.
No, I'm not getting you a kit with 1000 beads for your birthday.
No, you can't add water to the dirt.
No, you're not getting rice for dinner.
It's terrible! Where is my sweetness in servitude when I need it? Why can't I relish the paints and the beads and the mud and the rice and then feel great about cleaning up afterwards because I allowed my family good times and good meals? Can't I put their needs first and worry about my own, er, cleaning issues later? Do I need to just grow up or something?
Why aren't I feeling joy in serving my beloved family?
What the hell is wrong with me?
[Image via weheartit]