Of Understanding the Neat Freak

A number of years ago I watched my first episode of Jon & Kate Plus Eight.  I am not now, nor have I ever been an avid viewer of the show, which probably has a lot to do with that first experience.

She was hiring a housekeeper and I found her standards to be completely unrealistic - meaning she required more than the bare minimum I consider acceptable and, thereby made me feel guilty about my own pathetic cleaning efforts which led to the old standard female-fallback - annoyance and disgust.  Because being inspired to raise my own standards would have just been too much work.

What woman, I wondered, with eight kids underfoot, really has time to care about getting on hands and knees to scrub the dining room floor daily?  This woman was too much for me.

Fast forward my life to three kids later and I'm feeling all sorts of sorry for that judgment (well, ok, I feel bad, anyway, for judging, but that's an issue God and I are working on; for now we'll focus on the point of this story).

Lately I've been patting myself on the back for the mere act of sweeping once a day instead of my former goal to shoot for, which was once a week.

Stop judging - it's not nice.

I was feeling pretty darn good about myself, really, while trying not to brag - because that's not nice, either.

And then this afternoon, as we ate lunch, my littlest guy, who is generally allowed to roam like wild bison (we don't call them buffalo in these here parts), as long as he keeps his act together and makes good choices, found his way under the table where the rest of us sat, and spread himself out prostrate on the ground to - yes, I'm serious - lick the floor.

Apparently there were still remainders of chips and cheese from last night's Doritos Locos Nachos (our home-made take on the wonderful Tacos one can purchase in the Drive-Thru - we're still not judging, remember?  That includes my nutritional choices), and this little guy was not letting this golden opportunity slip through his fingers, or his one tooth.

Clearly my once-a-day efforts are still lacking.

Thus, as I swept these small particles together while the kids napped, thinking how I might need to be pulling that broom out a little more often than I have been, I suddenly recalled that crazy, Type-A, Neat Freak on TLC.

She had six of these scroungers wriggling on her floor.  At once.

And it all made sense.

Perhaps my hands and knees could use a little more time on the floor, as well.

So, I'm sorry, Kate.  I just needed to say that.

I still don't think it's necessary to dust behind the movies on the shelf, but I'll let that one go.


1,000 Gifts:
962. The way her little feet curl up like a monkey's as she holds her workbook in her lap
963. Sitting in a circle on the floor, crushing candies for the greater good
964. Stained glass cookies shimmering in the window
965. A tent in the living room


For those of you missing the photos of the day, please note how my heart is breaking that I have no photo of those precious heart-shaped cookies hanging like a banner along our dining room window.  My camera is currently missing and, should it choose to return home, will return to much rejoicing and, possibly (but probably not) a fattened calf.

Of Motivating Ourselves

New Cleaning Motivational Tip (for us anyway): We should clean before going to bed every evening as if the midwives could stop by in the middle of the night.

Hey, it worked before the baby came.

1,000 Gifts:
55. A game of tag bundled in giggles.
56. The sound of laughter from behind the closed door across the hall as the kids climb all over Daddy (who is trying to keep them quiet so Mommy can nap).
57. Secret giggles when they should be going to sleep (but are doing puzzle in the middle of the floor instead).
58. The gift of rest.
59. Friends in Christ re-connecting.
60. One in Whom I can rest my worries and be anxious no more.


Taking Time for Play: Favorite Drink
This is my "mug" - it's the one given to me by the hospital after Micaiah was born and it's the one Philip is still asked to fill with water at least three times a day.  The logo has been well-worn to the point of non-existence.  The inner and outer parts are mostly separated and the lid is cracked but it all still works and is never far from my side.  Love it.

Watching TV with all three of my precious ones, freshly bathed and ready for bed.

Of Waiting Patiently

As of Sunday I am 37 weeks along.  That means this baby is considered full term.  This is the moment I was waiting for when I was pregnant with Micaiah.  Though at the time it had more to do with the fact that I had a wedding to attend at the end of an 8-hour road trip only 10 days after my due date.  So, having her arrive sooner rather than later was a major goal for me.

Unfortunately, being the stubborn OCD girl she is, Micaiah had that date set on her calendar and saw no need to come any earlier than was already determined.  I, however, did not yet know that aspect of my daughter's personality, so at 37 weeks, I figured I had the green light.

Every morning I awoke in anticipation - this could be the day!  And every night I went to bed with sadness - as if admitting defeat - the baby wasn't coming, I might as well go to sleep.

Things were different with Emmett - I had no scheduling conflicts to hurry him along, but he had been riding uncomfortably low for a number of months.  So by 37 weeks I was more than ready to encourage this Little Man out into the world.  And it felt as though any day could be the day.

This time, while still looking forward to our homebirth (seriously excited to see how this goes!) and, of course, holding this tiny penguin in my arms, this isn't my first rodeo.  I have a pretty good idea of how my body works and, as far it's concerned, slow and steady wins the race.  So I'm not holding my breath.  In fact, we haven't even finished shopping for the homebirth necessities as recommended by our midwives.

As with my previous two, I am probably already dilated 3-4 cm (I had been at that point for three-four weeks before either of them came - when I left the hospital after my labor stalled with Emmett, I was at a five - and stayed that way for three days before we induced him).  But I know it means nothing, so I'm not arguing with the fact that the midwives aren't checking (they, like me, know it leads to false hopes or unnecessary disappointment).

Many well-wishers keep insisting that, this being my third child, this will go so quickly and my baby will come out almost instantaneously.

I know otherwise.

Aside from my aforementioned slowness in birthing babies, I know I was a third baby.  My mom's due date was their anniversary - June 3rd.  My birthday is June 28th.  I'll let you  do the math.  And the only reason I came then is because I was induced.

So, again, I am not holding my breath.

I don't anticipate a baby in my arms any day now and I don't anticipate a one-hour labor.  If either happens, I will welcome it.  But, still, not holding my breath.

Picture of the Day:
While I understand this baby probably won't be here any minute, I am at the point where maintaining a spic-and-span home, so it's one less thing to worry about when the time comes, has become a priority.  Thus, after a day of Winter Cleaning yesterday (with windows open to allow in the 72 degrees of warmth which showered the event with an air of Spring Cleaning), it has made me happy all day to see these sights.

 Here's what you may not understand - that table and those counters have been unnecessarily cluttered since Christmas.  Not unbearable, just filled with those little things you don't know where to put so you just ignore.  And now it's a straight-shot of cleanliness.  (Not spotlessness, mind you, but it's much-improved, trust me.)

 Another bane of my existence lately.  This kitchen is typically filled with toys - as in, if I tell Micaiah to put something in her kitchen, it gets dumped in that tiny sink.  Philip spent a solid 45 minutes yesterday straightening it up.  I love that man.