Busy?

I've often laughed when I ask somebody what they've been up to on a given day and they give me a detailed list of every individual chore completed that day. For example, "I just haven't stopped! I've stripped the beds, made the breakfast, cleaned the counters, done two loads of washing and hung them out, re-made the beds, cleaned out the fridge, washed the windows, dusted all the photo frames, cut back the roses...." and so on and so on. It used to amuse me because I always thought that a simple, "I've done a bit of housework" would suffice in explaining where the day went.

Now... I do it too! I try to stop myself but I can't help it and I think I know why. I think I feel the need to justify my time now because I spend it at home with the munchkins rather than at a 'real' job.

When I worked B.C (before children) It was clear what my accomplishments were at the end of the day. I would have the commission to prove it or a desk cleared of paperwork or an empty e-mail inbox.

At home however, sometimes there's nothing concrete to prove where my time went. Other than two children still breathing and their mother still home and sane as opposed to dribbling down her straight jacket in an institution.

Sometimes, despite vacumning, washing and mopping the house looks worse than it did before I started. Sometimes, despite a lovely peaceful morning, there will be tantrums in the afternoon. Sometimes, despite washing and blowdrying my hair and putting on clean clothes, by the end of the day I'll look like I just fell out of bed and pulled dirty clothes out of the laundry basket.

So, when D arrives home in the evening and says "What did you get up to today?" I tell him. Everything. "Well, I cleared the breakfast dishes, unloaded the dishwasher and then loaded it again, I put in a load of washing, changed wee man's nappy, got him dressed, dressed chicken little, took them through to read on our bed while I had a shower, got dressed, made our bed, cooked, pureed and froze some vegetables, took fish out of the freezer for dinner, chicken little used the potty, drank half a cup of coffee, went to the shops to buy baby wipes and stamps, came home, made some lunch... blah blah blah... the monologue continues to include every detail of the day until the moment he walked in.

I loved this article. It's a few years old but for those who don't live the same life I do it explains just where all the minutes go.

I'm off to feed the wee man, then we're going to go to playgroup, then I've to run to the shops, then...