My confession

I’m not a great housewife.  That’s not a confession.  That’s just sort of obvious.  Our house isn’t terrible.  In fact most of the time it’s pretty passable.  Sure, the kids’ bathroom may smell like a hamster cage on occasion (NOT my fault, but it should probably be cleaned a bit more often than it is), yes, I may not recall exactly when I dusted upstairs, and okay, that pile of dirt by the front door probably should have been dealt with ages ago.  But really it’s not too bad.  I have three kids.  We’re at home all day (usually).  I try to make healthy meals for my family, which takes a lot of time.  I homeschool.  I made a conscious decision that housework is important, but not the most important thing.  And most of the time our house reflects that.  Not perfect, but decent. But there are some places where I fail miserably as a homemaker.  One is ironing.  Oh how I hate to iron.  I’m sure part of it is that I loathe my ironing board.  The cover is very itchy and slippery, which makes an unpleasant job even more unpleasant and difficult.  I should just get a new cover.  But for some reason I haven’t.  I’m sure it’s because ironing is extremely low on my priority list, so I never think about ironing covers at the store.  When my mom was here to visit last time, she spent hours ironing.  Every single thing in the ironing pile was ironed.  It was blissful.  She definitely doesn’t visit enough. But even worse than the ironing is the mending.  I have a VERY large mending pile.  Some of those things have been in there for years.  YEARS.  I have size 2 boy pajamas in there (Paul is now a size 4, and has been for some time now).  By the time I finish mending Katie’s clothes, Averi will probably fit into them.  It’s very bad. There are several reasons why I don’t mend: 1.  I never seem to have the right supplies.  Perhaps those overalls need a new hook.  Or that shirt needs a new button and I just don’t have the right one.  And how on earth do you fix those snaps that go on kids’ jeans? 2.  Thread.  Why is it that no matter how many spools of thread I own, I can never find quite the right color?  So it gets set aside for the next trip to the fabric store, where of course I forget to bring aforementioned item to hunt down the perfect thread match. 3.  I don’t think I’m very good at it.  I’m never quite sure how to end my stitching, so I’m pretty sure it’s just going to come undone anyway.  And I can never hide things as seamlessly as my mother can.  Another reason why she should visit more. 4.  It’s dull as sticks. So today I have decided to tackle that pile.  I’m turning on The Office and sewing as many things as I can before I have to get showered before Aaron comes home (another glimpse into my less-than-Martha ways).  I’m sure I won’t see a huge decrease in the pile.  But I will feel good about ignoring it for at least another six months. There you have it.  I’ve aired my dirty laundry.  What’s yours?