As I sit here on the couch, laptop in my lap (duh), I am surrounded, almost overcome by mountains of folded clothes that need to find a home in an empty drawer, clothes that need to be hauled off to Goodwill, and ratty stuff that just needs thrown away. I folded clothes in the living room floor while watching TV until my back hurt. Now I'm just sitting in the middle of the piles, praying for the gumption to put them away. Probably won't happen. They'll probably sit here until tomorrow morning when I'm forced to put them away because if I don't, the baby will just gleefully jump in and throw them all over the place like she's in a giant pile of nicely raked leaves, ruining all of my hard work.
Well, the sad truth is they've just been transformed from piles and piles of unfolded clothes in the laundry room to piles and piles of folded clothes in the living room. I just hope and pray they don't remain in here for months, like they did in the laundry room. Really ya'll, I've been sorting, sifting and pilfering through those piles of clean clothes looking for something to wear for a couple of months now. I was following the "wash a small load every day" rule, but not folding and putting them away like your supposed to. So, needless to say, chaos set in.
But really, I know no different. My whole life was lived this way. We had a big laundry room and all the clothes that my mother washed for her family of five would end up piled in front of the dryer. You can imagine what a giant pile it was! I spent many a cold, rushed morning sifting through that pile trying to find something to wear to school. Not to mention sifting through the shoe closet (yes a whole closet full of mangled, tangled shoes for a family of five) for a matching pair of shoes...I hated that. But every few weeks, my mom would get it in her head that she wanted that laundry room cleaned out, so she would call my sister and I into the living room on a Saturday night to fold all those clothes in front of the TV that my dad was watching (usually some boring, adult, dad type fishing or hunting show that no respectable kid would be caught dead watching). Sometimes it would take hours for me, my sister and my mom to fold those clothes. It always bugged me that my dad would just sit there in his recliner enjoying his show while we slaved! Huh. Sort of like it bugged me tonight, that my husband just laid on the couch and watched some stupid show while I worked for close to 2 hours folding his underwear and t-shirts. It's so weird isn't it? The more things change, the more things stay the same.
I'm almost in tears realizing that I carry so many of the same habits and am repeating so many of my parents' behaviors that I loathed so much as a child. I don't want that for my daughter. Right now she loves sneaking into the laundry room and having a blast wallowing in those piles and playing. But there's going to be a morning not so far off, when she's late for school, the bus is barrelling down the street, and she's yelling, "Mom, I can't find that t-shirt I was supposed to wear for school spirit day, where is it?" And I yell out, "I washed it, look in the laundry room." Then her heart sinks because she knows she has to spend the next who-knows-how-long going through throngs of clothes and clothes and more clothes looking for that t-shirt (can we say, "unresolved issues?")! We're headed down that path if mommy doesn't get it together.
All this brings me to the title of this post. I have accomplished some things this week; tackling an unfinished project, getting the Christmas stuff packed away, swishing and swiping, hanging more pictures and of course, folding that mountain of clothes tonight. Yes, I've done some good things. But ya'll, I've been a real sahmbie this week too. I've spent a lot of time plastered to the couch in my pj's, unkempt and unmotivated. I haven't exercised one time since I came home from my parents (if you remember, I was walking on their treadmill every night), and my teeth and hair haven't seen a brush this week more days than I care to admit. But I am admitting it.
What do I do?? This is me. This is what I do year, after year, after year. How do you change who you are...what you are? That same little girl who resented every Saturday night spent in the floor folding mountains of clothes is a 34 year old woman who just spent her Friday night resenting every minute on the floor folding a mountain of clothes. I'm just puzzled? Why do we do this? I won't even begin to try to answer that question here, but will pray and ask God for the strength to change...again.