This is my 200th post on this blog. I probably should be doing something fun and interesting to celebrate, but I am running low on ye ol' fun and interesting. Easter, and then Maddie's birthday, have totally sucked all the creativity right on out of me!
So, I apologize for the fact that this post is absolutely, tragically, un-fun and un-interesting.
I just really feel the need to confess, to unburden my soul, to you my dear, dear readers.
I hate housework.
Not only do I hate it, I am really kinda bad at it.
I think the main problem is that I find it so horribly non-stimulating, and then my ADD kicks in and I get easily distracted and drift away in the middle of the project . . . leave the dishwasher half unloaded, the laundry unfolded, or worse, forget to move it into the dryer.
I wish I could be one of these really anal OCD people who have to have a clean house or they can't sleep. It is all to easy for me to ignore, forget, or just plain not care and konk out on my unmade bed. But there is still that quiet, nagging voice inside that continues to let me know I haven't done enough, or done it right, and just can't quite measure up to "good enough."
I also have a deep-seated, secret jealousy of suburban Ritalin moms. You know the ones who are getting it all done, perfect house, perfect kids, involved in every activity and always on the go - because they're popping ADD drugs on the sly from their illegal stash in the glove box of their SUVs . . . I didn't say it was a rational jealousy. Although, my guess is that if I might actually qualify for adult ADD meds and they'd just bring me up to normal as opposed to Super-Mom.
They say confession is good for the soul. Is housework the bane of your existence like it is mine? Is there something that makes you feel like you aren't good enough? Or are you one of those women who has got it all together? I promise I won't hold it against you if you are . . . ok, maybe just a little bit.