It seems that I no more than finish a task and it needs doing again. I sweep the floor, and after one meal Little Sprout has spilled enough that it needs sweeping and mopping again. I wash the dishes, and as I am setting the last pan in the drying rack someone is coming into the kitchen to make themselves a snack. I finish the laundry, feeling great joy that I have finally conquered the mountain of dirty clothes, only to find that Big Sprout has another load (or more) stuffed under her bed and in the corners of her room. I no more than finish making a meal before I have to start thinking about what I will make for the next meal.
I am trying to be calm about it. I know that housework is never done, and that I need to learn to take joy in the doing of the chores, rather than the finishing of them. But it is hard. I want to go to sleep without first running through the endless list of chores that still need doing in my head. I want to wake and be able to make my way to the kitchen without having to step over toys and blankets and shoes left wherever they may fall. I want things to stay where I put them....
I am losing patience with the Sprouts, as well. It is so frustrating to clean a room, move on to the next, and return to the first only to find that they have managed to make a huge mess out of the first room.
It doesn't help that Mr. Barefoot has been busy with the band. He just got home from CA, and already he is not coming home for supper because the band needs him to rehearse, or to pack for a gig, or to play a gig. I think I do a damn good job of being a 'band wife' and not complaining about it, but today I don't care about being a good band wife. It sucks to not have your hubby around. It sucks to have him out pursuing a dream of becoming a rock star while I am home cleaning up after kids and cat. It sucks to know that nothing is going to change.
I want to be one of those women who is calm and strong in that secret way only women have. I want to be stoic in the face of my husband's absence and a hard worker. I want to have that quiet strength that has carried women through hardships since the dawn of time.
I am finding myself lacking.
So, I breathe. I remind myself that life will go on, and that I am doing good with what I can. I sweep the floor one more time, put in another load of laundry, wipe the dust from one more shelf. There is a kind of peace that comes from knowing that I can keep on doing what needs to be done, no matter how hard it is. It makes me feel strong to push beyond my anger and frustration and continue to provide the home, meals, and support needed by my family.
And someday, maybe, it will be my turn. My turn to follow a dream, my turn to have things done for me, my turn to be taken care of.....my turn to matter.
But I won't hold my breath