Superwoman was not a mother. ..

Superwoman wasn’t a single mother trying to do it all. ..

Superwoman wasn’t middle-aged!!

I still have a bad habit of comparing myself to others.  I spent this past weekend at my brother and sister-in-laws house, and it is SO clean and organized.  I came home depressed because I know for sure my home will never look like that.  Several of my friends can’t relax until their homes are clean.  For some reason, I don’t have that problem!

Is it a cleaning gene that I’m lacking?  Do I have too many things on my plate?  I know that I try to do too much at every given moment and that my housework suffers.  But what is the answer?  Should I do less so I can clean more?

I heard a saying once that said “Home should be clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy” and I guess I”m just going to have to content myself with that.  I am too old to totally change now.  I will never strive for the cleanest house on the block.  I have no problem watching American Idol with the kids instead of cleaning.  I look forward to sleeping in on my day off instead of getting my house clean.   Give me a good book and the dust can settle around me!

So maybe I’m setting a bad example.  But my kids will have to discover whether or not they carry the cleaning gene.  Until then I will have to settle for a home that is clean enough to be healthy but dirty enough to be happy!


I Am Not Superwoman!

May 14, 2009


I have given up the battle to be Superwoman.  I am a single mother, a jewelry artist, a daughter, a sister, a friend, an employee, a Christian, a neighbor, a teacher and a million other titles that suck up my time and energy.  One thing I am not is a superwoman.  I don’t even want to try to be one.

We already do enough.  We do too much.  We all feel inadequate because most of the time we can’t get everything done.  So I cannot feel guilty for not doing even more.  I can’t handle it all – so sue me.  My house is a mess half the time and I have paperwork in stacks…oh, well!  My mom had a plaque on the wall in our kitchen that said “So this isn’t Home Sweet Home – ADJUST!”  I have that plaque now and I love it.  It wasn’t that there wasn’t tons of love and tons of fun and tons of hard work, because there was.  What there wasn’t was that sense that everything had to be in its place OR ELSE. We lived in that house and we were comfortable there.  I now have that kind of house, too.  We live here and it’s never going to be perfect.

I will never be the woman who is put together, calm and self-assured.  I’m the one running in sweating and frazzled.  I’m the one with the never-ending to-do list.  I will nearly always have a basket of clean laundry to be folded in my living room.  But this is me, and this is my life.  It’s the best that I can do, and that must be enough.  I don’t have fancy bullet deflecting cuffs, but I dodge bullets every day.

Superwoman’s bustier looks really uncomfortable anyway.

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