Today was spent cleaning the house. I could make a career out of just being a mom and a housewife. If only someone would pay me for it. So much goes into keeping the house clean and continuing my quest for efficiency. I love a clean house (who doesn't?) However, I am not natually efficient. Maybe I am creative...but effecient, no. I am getting better. Although, my linen closets are not tidy. My clothes closet? Oh. Bad. Maybe it's because my clothes are very "casual," shall I say. You know...most of my shoes (which are never worn inside) are tracked out to the chicken coop at one point or another and, sometimes, accidentally left outside in the rain. Why not have one pair of plastic shoes dedicated for the outside, you ask? Because that is what an efficient person would do! And she, clearly, is not me.
I go from the heart, off the cuff, in the moment. A lot of things don't matter to me, like shoes, evidently. And a lot of things do matter- like making sure the ducks and the chickens get to run around the yard at the end of the day and look for snails.
It brings tears to my eyes, sometimes, when I feel I should get a pedicure and fold the linens in a way that makes Martha Stewart proud. But...there really isn't time for such things in my life. I have a lot of sewing to do, you know...and the kids and all and... a $35 pedicure just seems a little out of order. I mean, I suppose I could make it happen. But wouldn't a nice walk be just as good for me if I need to have some "self-time.?" And... I'd rather use my money towards piano lessons or ducks anyway. Or, a cheap lunch out with Brad. Or...a pretty second hand bowl. More potting soil for my garden beds? Yes! I'll pay up! Shoes? Most practically never. Ever. Maybe flip flops. Once a year. Walking shoes, every two. Cheap boots at Ross? Every three.
Anyway. Why fight who we are, right? I mean...maybe next life I will be a fancier woman. But, here I am and I want to embrace this me. I want to love her because I know she probably isn't going to change all that much from here on out. And anyway, I know her: She's the one in the jeans. With the coffee-stain. Working with her hands. Tank top. Tattoo that says Grace and Joy. Hair that's pulled back again in a messy ponytail when it's long enough to braid into something really very beautiful. Thing is, this girl that I am, she just isn't the French braid. Nope. I guess once in a while I wish she was. But she's the pony tail. Always has been. And my guess is, always will be.
(last day to join my giveaway for a really darling tank with a handmade heart design!!!)