There’s a hole in my sock. It’s one of my last pairs of block socks. I probably should get more.
I’m tired. Maybe I should make coffee. Maybe I should stop staying up until midnight and beyond. Maybe I’m getting old. I don’t remember having such a hard time staying up til midnight, getting up at 7 and functioning properly through the day when I was 20.
I heard a theory that when our kids start getting older and doing more for themselves, that we should never show them how well we do something. Like, if you were coloring with your kid and they were scribbling all over the page you should also scribble rather than coloring in the lines.
I remember I also believed this way at one time, when J was a baby. I never wanted her to feel bad for how her drawings looked compared to mine. (I can draw decently, myself, although I’m no artist.)
Now, when I draw with my kids, I draw my way and let them draw theirs. I emphasize how we’re all different, how some of us have had more practice, and how with practice and learning, we can all get better if we want to. Now, I think it’s important for them to see the things I can do well. I think it’s important for them to see someone doing something well so that they can emulate them. And I think it’s important for them to know that every one’s talents lie in different directions. I tend to be more artistic and their dad tends to be more technologically savvy. We think differently and rather than downplaying those differences, I like to celebrate them.
It’s a shift in thinking, I suppose, from where I was 8 or 9 years ago. Nice to know I can change.
I’ve changed in other ways too. Housekeeping has always been a special challenge for me. I’ve spent years and years stressing about my house not being neat enough, clean enough, or uncluttered enough.
I never felt like I could live up to my mom or my grandmother. My mom has worked full time for as long as I can remember, for goodness sake, and her house has always, in my memory and to my knowledge, been very clean. She has told me over and over not to stress about it, that her house wasn’t always so neat and that it is hard to maintain a clean house with small children. I have trouble believing that her house has ever been less than spic and span. My grandmother also kept a very clean house, with routines and habits that no doubt helped keep it that way. Try as they both did, I resisted learning about the nuts and bolts of keeping a clean house for years. And by the time I started a family and wanted to learn, my pride kept me from asking too many questions.
Now, I finally feel like I’m learning. My house is definitely lived in, and there are still piles of paper clutter here and there. Some rooms, like the kids’ rooms, seem to be continuously breeding messes. Still, the main part of the house is usually fairly neat and anymore it only takes me a couple of hours to straighten and clean the whole house. I’m feeling pretty good about this change in my life.
And then, some days, I feel like it’s the grubbiest house in the world and nothing I do will ever get it uncluttered. But that’s my brain for you. 
Today, the world is sunshiny and I have rose colored glasses. Yesterday, it was a different story. I love the cycles. meh.
I’m sure I could go on…random thoughts are like that…so random. But I’ll close it out now and thanks to anyone who takes the time to read this.
