It's a Disease I Tell Ya!

Today, and really for awhile now, I have been struck by a disease.  It's called "Perfect-Stay-At-Home-itis".  I didn't know that I had it.  The symptoms were subtle and could easily be confused with other conditions such as Why-can't-I-get-one-d@mn-thing-done-itis,  Where-did-all-the-cookies-go syndrome, and Do-I-have-turrets-because-I'm-cussing-a-lot-more malady.

It became apparent that something was definitely wrong today.  Why today?  Why not today.  I tried to do the laundry.  Majority is still sitting in piles on the floor of the laundry room.  Breakfast was a handful of dry Life cereal and a glass of lemonade left over from Ben's baby blessing on Sunday.  After I bathed I put on the same clothes as yesterday and hoped they didn't smell like spit up.  I didn't get the chicken out in time to have it thawed for dinner.  In the hopes of surprising my husband I made pumpkin chocolate chip cookies but was unable to finish baking them before needing to take care of wee child.  Dinner was a fend for yourself affair which means I ate half my body weight in said pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.  After the first 5 or so I felt bad because I was going to be so very good and start eating healthier which then caused a downward spiral of which I will not tell you how many I actually ate because I lost track.  I complained because I didn't have time to take a walk.  My husband said, go now, I'll finish baking the cookies.  But I felt too disgusting and refused to.  How could I possibly be a martyr if I was actually able to take the walk I complained about missing!

To clarify:  I have absolutely NO delusions about being able to keep a clean house or a fully organized life while taking care of my child.  None.  Never have had them.  I had 36 years to watch and learn and get a reality check.  The laundry would never be finished.  The floors would never get mopped at the same time.  An all the way clean kitchen is a luxury.  Getting the bed made in the morning gets brownie points somewhere, and a grown woman with braids in her hair because there is simply no time to get it dry before the magic errand-running window closes up for the day is perfectly acceptable.  In fact, when visiting people with smallish children in the home I'm more surprised to find things clean! 

No sir.  No delusions here.  However, even though I had no delusions of being able to keep up with stuff, I still had the guilt.  The guilt that said somehow, someway, if I was a good stay at home mom then I should totally be able to keep up with this stuff.  I mean, I quit my job!  Did that mean I had "extra" time to do stuff?  To clean, to cook, to make things sparkly?  Because, you know, it was my job that was hindering the whole cooking/cleaning thing right?  No.  It wasn't the job, it was the child.  The wonderful child that I absolutely love to pieces.  He's the reason the house is a mess and my laundry is still on the floor.

So today, as it came to an end and I had treated my husband terribly because I ate too many cookies and felt bad.  Today as I sent him back out the door to the young men's activity all worried about what kind of a state he would find me in when I got home.  Today, as I continued to eat more cookies because half of my body weight wasn't enough and what else was I going to do for dinner... I started to have myself a think.  To analyze my behavior and try to figure out why I was feeling so... bleck.  So distraught.  Wondering how I could feel so overwhelmingly loving in some aspects and so completely empty in others. 

That's when I recognized the guilt.  The self-imposed guilt.  The guilt that was based on the unachievable.  The guilt that really and truly has no place in my life or anyone else's.  The guilt that doesn't let me forgive myself for not being perfect.  It consumes and sucks the joy out of things like pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and taking walks I didn't think I'd be able to.  Evil, evil guilt!

As I thought about this and began to recognize the dreaded evil guilt for what it really is... of the devil! I  smartly decided to take advantage of Do-I-have-turrets-because-I'm-cussing-a-lot-more malady and wisely tell this guilt to "go to hell!"  Right back where it came from.

There.  I feel better now.  I might just have another cookie.