Today instead of a confession, we start with a disclaimer: This post is really depressing. For real. It's like what would happen if you created a bitching club and merged it with Whiners Anonymous and then took away everybody's Zoloft.
As for the title, yes I am aware that I live in New Jersey, but I am from PA and the title just sounds so much better than Pantsless in NJ, don't ya think?
Plus with Jersey Shore and Jerseylicious and Mob Wives and all that crap- Pantsless in NJ sounds like just another day of bad reality t.v., right?
So here I am, in New Jersey not Pennsylvania, sitting around being secretly jealous of other moms- ok not so secretly since I'm blogging about it. So really just sitting around being blatantly jealous of other moms. I'm not talking about celebrity moms or New York Times best selling book published moms- though they hold a special place of jealousy for me- for now I just mean every mom. Yes, every mom on Earth, everywhere period.
Why? Mostly because I feel like they are all getting so much more done in life than I am. I feel like they're all in some secret club of getting-doneness (shut up- I told you before- my blog, my made up words) that I am not a part of.
I just know every one's house is cleaner than mine.
I just know every one's bills are all filed away neatly in a cabinet and not tossed in a box (AKA vortex) next to the desk in the basement FOR FIVE YEARS.
I just know that they all have time to APPLY MAKEUP and comb their hair and put on actual non yoga pants or pajama bottom type clothes.
And I don't get it. What am I doing wrong? Or better yet, what am I not doing wrong?
Yeah I have 3 kids. Yeah I have 2 dogs that are like having an extra kid most days. Yeah I write, I blog, I cook, I clean, I wash fold put away and repeat...repeat...repeat...repeat... but big deal.. so do a GAZILLION other women.
I know moms with 5 and 6 kids who still find the time to go to the gym every day. The gym. Hello? Seriously?
I know stay at home moms who have 4 kids home with them ALL DAY and yet whenever you seem to drop by, everything seems to be perfectly in its place and neat and tidy. So tidy that I wanna "accidentally" spill my cup of Starbucks all over the freshly mopped floor.
I know working moms who work all week, take care of dinner, kids, etc. after they get home and still have the energy to go to book clubs one night a week, and take the kids to the zoo and the park on the weekends.
I try not to obsess over this- as a matter of fact I have made not obsessing over it a mission in my life- to a point where, well, I am obsessing over not obsessing over it.
What the hell am I doing wrong? Or what drugs am I not taking?
Because for real- I feel like all I do ALL DAY LONG in pick up clothes, put away toys, wash dishes, and feed people.
I feel like the house is always a mess.
I have a list of projects as long as my arm, knowing full well that none of them will ever get done. How am I supposed to re stain the dining room set when I can’t even get the stains out of the baseball uniforms?
Every day I set out with a plan- a plan of what I could feasibly get done that day. Maybe it’s pulling up all the weeds in the garden. Maybe it’s reorganizing the filing cabinet so that maybe, you know, files can actually go in it.
But at the end of the day, I have done the same things every single day. I’ve gotten up, fed dressed and sent off the kids. Put in laundry. Emptied the dishwasher. Switched laundry. Made the beds. Folded laundry. Planned dinner. Put away laundry. Retrieved child 1. Made lunch. Probably more laundry. Retrieved other children. Helped with homework. Pretty sure there's laundry involved here. Made dinner. I'm starting to see dryer sheets in my sleep. Cleaned up from dinner. Gotten everyone ready for bed. I swear to *** I am gonna break this ****ing washing machine.
And even if I could pull myself away from the treadmill of domesticity that I ride every day, I still have my doubts that there’d be a shred of difference.
You see, I seldom have a moment to complete a task before the children are bellowing for something. When I do decide to take a moment to say, write this blog post, I will inevitably hear the cries of all 3 kids on at least 2 different occasions. Usually the cries are proceeded by moooooom I want..... mooooooom I need..... or mooooom so and so did......... and there goes the neighborhood! I am off again riding the treadmill. By the time dust settles, most of the time I have forgotten what I had started to do, or like in the case of this post, have had to come back to it 12 or 13 times just to get it done.
Most of this mind you, is my own doing. I would probably get more done if I actually waited until the end of the day to go around and clean EVERYTHING up at once instead of doing it every 15-20 minutes throughout the entire day. I’m not exactly sure who I am afraid will see a “mess” or why i care, but apparently I do.
Not to mention if I didn’t have a fear of leaving my kids unsupervised for more than 3 minutes at a time for fear of what they are going to mess up/ get into/ destroy.
And don’t even get me started on prioritizing or organizing. (What do you mean sitting up pinning pictures of nice kitchens on Pinterest until 1 a.m. isn't a priority?) For real? By then it’s too late to get anything REAL done anyway.
Half the time I feel like I am just getting by, living day to day, just trying to get through to the next one without the house falling down around me. Geez, it sounds a lot suckier than it is really.
It’s just that some days I just feel like a machine. Like I am living life on auto-pilot and I don’t know how to steer myself anymore. Can we say- priorities- out- of- whack? I mean, I don't even bother to appropriately dress myself most days. I mean, I just have to get back into my pajamas later anyway! As long as there's no dishes in the sink, no dog hair on the floor, who cares if I haven't washed my hair in 3 days, right?
Hell, I walk around pantless half the time because if I start getting dressed, the bellows begin. It’s like they sense the fabric softener hitting my body. (I bet you were beginning to wonder where I was going with the whole title thing, weren't ya?)
So as I wander the house pantsless, with kids screaming at each other, begging for snacks, and whatever else kids do, I wonder... CAN I BE THE ONLY ONE? PLEASE DEAR LORD DO NOT LET ME THE ONLY ONE!!! But, I fear that I am. The only pantsless, exhausted, frustrated, haven't had a manicure in 8 years, mom. The only mom that is so time deprived and organizationally challenged that she literally can't even put her pants on.
If it weren't so pathetic, I just might cry. But instead I will laugh. I laugh because there’s really nothing else to do. I’ll laugh because frowning gives you wrinkles way faster. I’ll laugh because I wrote this entire post pantless. And I laugh because after torturing me with the most inane requests for hours and hours on end finally...FINALLY.... one of the kids looks up at me and says, “MOM! Where are your pants?!”