Monday, September 9, 2013

A Clean Beginning

Dinner, laundry, taking out the trash, being on the constant alert for cries of "moooooooooom", working, trying to keep track of bills although I could swear my bills must have gremlin like traits because they keep multiplying (my son must be feeding them after midnight, or the dog must be watering them...I should look into that).  Being a parent is far from easy.  Being a solo parent presents a new set of challenges; challenges that go far beyond that of finding time for a romantic life among my chaos.  

First, I'm only one person; I can't only work so many hours in a day/week, etc.  I can only do so many parent and non-parent like things at once.  In my son's eyes there are times I might seem like a super hero, but here's a shocking truth:  I'm human.  My house is filled with random splurts of clutter.  The clutter sits and multiplies (much like my bills) not only because I'm only one person, but I have no idea where to PUT it all.  I'm coming to a point where I'm just going to get rid of everything, but I'm not quite there yet.  

There are the rare moments where I have this surprising burst of energy, and I decide I'm going to conquer the clutter.  I typically begin with the kitchen, and while my motivation is still in full force I meander into my living room capturing every last dust bunny that has made its home under my couch.  I throw away random wrappers that must have walked put themselves between my couch cushions, because there's no way my far from perfect littler boy would have done such a thing (HA!).

The next spot on my motivational cleaning spree is the bathroom.  It usually doesn't take much effort and is more chemically dependent than any other room in my house.  A few scrubs here, empty the trash, and I'm done...I have a house that feels company ready, and I typically revert to my living room at that point and retreat with a smile on my face; conveniently forgetting that both mine and my son's bedrooms haven't been touched yet.  There's also my dreaded office; a room in my house I lost control of the second day I had moved in....the office primed for the television show Hoarders, as it's become my classic dump zone of items I just don't know what to do with.  

But back to the bedrooms....because that's where I typically hit a wall.  Not just any wall, a combination of the great wall of China and the Berlin Wall (prior to demolition).

Bless my son's little heart, but his room manages to whip itself into a disaster zone within the blink of an eye.  The funny thing is I've taken away 90% of his toys because I was sick of picking up after him...but lone behold he always finds away to scatter randomness about.  The great thing about him growing up is I can now hold him more accountable for picking his room up....that is, now that I've rid him of the majority of his clutter.  

By this time, all my motivation is gone.  I allow myself to ignore my room because it's mine, and if I'm fine with it being a fire hazard then all is well in the world....except it's far from well.  Typically the only times I muster the miraculous extra bit of energy to clean my room is if I'm interested in a man (which sounds odd and horrible).  After all, why would I want a perfect stranger to know that I'm not a superhero, that I have a damn hard time taking care of me because I always put my family first?  Something comes over me, and I find a way to make things look neat; presentable.  

The trouble with my current method of paying attention to ME was it has been a loooooooong while since I've been interested in a man.  Months, close to going on more than a year.  Depressing, in more ways than one.  Looking at my disaster-zone of a room, I'm reminded daily how long it has been since I've had a love interest.  What better time to allow myself to take care of me but a national holiday?  I woke up the morning of Labor Day and decided it would be the day where I would rid myself of my cluttered room, take care of my monstrous piles of laundry, and (GASP!) clean my sheets (I know that last bit sounds incredibly sad, but remember, it's been me and only me...).  

It's taken me three hours to clear my floors, and find places for the piles of unwelcome things that had been forcing me to tip toe to and from my bed.  As I sit here typing I feel like I've had a mountainous burden lifted from my back.  My room is no longer something for me to be embarrassed about, it's my own little sanctuary.  A quiet place I can retreat to for school work, for me-time, and maybe even someday to bring a romantic love interest.  It feels amazing to take care of me without the ulterior motive of a visit from a guy I'm interested in.  I feel like I can truly walk up and down the streets as if I'm actually put together (aside from my massive amounts of bills piling up...but nobody's perfect, right?!).

No comments: