I am not cut out for this.

Over the last year, I have realized that I am not made for the life I am living. Not that I am living the wrong life, but I am just not cut out for this.

What hit me one day was that I was cleaning the high chair tray for the 3rd time, and that it would need to be done one more time before turning in for the night. 4 times a day, for the last year, and likely the next one. I clean that thing 4 times a day. As I was brushing the crumbs into the trash can and wiping it down for the 3rd time today, I had this incredible urge to throw it through the window. Not in anger, but more out of curiosity - like, "I wonder how far into the backyard I could get this thing?"

I'd also swept and wet-mopped the family room that day, after embarking on a very messy glitter project with my daughter. The result was so unsatisfying and the feeling of the glitter and goldfish crumbs left by the baby while I was busy sweeping and wet-mopping was so disgusting that I donned my spa flip flops so that I didn't have to feel the particles sticking to my feet. And I would have to sweep and wet-mop the floor again - after they went to bed.

I'd had a party on Monday night - wonderful time, great friends, delicious food - and every last serving dish I own (I think there are about 17, which I have discovered has to be about 17 times what the average 28-year- old housewife owns) remained on my kitchen table, because I couldn't get it together enough to put them away without one of the kids rummaging through the trash can or finding plutonium to swallow while I returned the pewter trays to their resting places.

I'm very proud of myself when I have dinner ready - or at least planned - at least twice a week. Dinner! What a project. I think planning an event for 1000 people or writing a 700-page novel is easier than preparing a family dinner while trying to keep two children out of the oven. And I manage it twice a week! Yay for me!

I'm not made for this. I think God blessed me with hundreds of gifts, and maybe 2 of them apply to homemaking. I look at some of these girls who talk about vaccuuming and mopping and cleaning windows and other things i don't even realize you can clean as if it's an art form and I think, well, yay for you. If you like it so much, come do it at my house, too. No I don't. I think, "why can't I be like that?" But then, I ask them something like, "how far do you think I could throw this high chair tray?" and they laugh and say, "Amy, you're so funny." What? I'm serious! This could be a fun experiment!

Those are the kinds of things I think. That is what goes on in my head. I was made for thinking and dreaming and adventure and silliness. For relationships and people and life. I was not made to love cleaning and straightening and cooking and yardwork. I can do it all, and I will, but it's not the life I was made for.

I find that a beautiful revelation. Somehow, knowing and accepting that this just isn't my thing, but it's a thing I have to do, makes it easier to do. And I don't have to love it! So, I can't keep every dust bunny out of every corner in every room at all times. So, my kids have glitter on their heads and glue on their fingers and cookies on their faces. It's the mark of a well-spent day, if you ask me.

August 16, 2006