Before my world turned inside out and I went back to school, I had a very clean house. It was not perfect, but I did quarterly spring cleanings, and I kept up on my laundry so much better than now. So much better.
So anyway, it's been such a long time since I had a handle on my house that we have a new normal, and I don't like it very much. I have to remind myself that my children are growing up and will be gone soon. And I force myself to remember what old ladies are supposed to say about how you will miss the mess. So I don't actually savor the mess, but I let go of the sheer frustration that overtakes me. That's not entirely true. I don't let go all the way. But I do let go for me, and that's enough.
I've been doing deep cleaning projects, one room at a time, throwing away garbage and donating things we don't have use for anymore but for some reason love to hang onto. I've taken three loads to the thrift store already, and I'm due for a fourth hopefully by tomorrow night.
Being a working mom makes everything take that much longer since I have to stop and start and stop again, but I am determined to help myself (and my children) to be more successful at keeping up with our home. We shouldn't have so much stuff that we don't even know what we have. It's ridiculous.
I am very thankful to have a home and children, so I guess that's where gratitude makes its home: in the need for a home for them. I am thankful for the messes in that they are here to make them. But DO NOT tell them I said that!
There's a lot that goes into taking care of a home filled with children. A lot of time is evaporated in the process. I'm grateful for the chunks of time here and there that I've been able to spend focusing on my home and helping my family take care of ourselves. It feels so great to have an organized home, and I'm determined to have it that way at least halfway until they're gone and I am required to miss the messes.