A Little Backstory
We are a nightlife industry family. That in and of itself makes for a pretty interesting home life. We keep very creative and irregular hours and the kids are homeschooled both out of choice and necessity. That said, I do my best to keep some semblance of rhythm and consistency for the house. My daughter is a budding artist, she could really care less how the day goes as long as she gets to draw for most of her waking hours. Husband is a sovereign being, he does what he needs to do when he needs to do it. Me and my son however, need a bit more routine and structure to be emotionally okay.
Fuck An Alarm Tho
Schedules and alarm clocks are absolutely out of the question for me. We prioritize healthy sleep over following rules around here, #Taurusmomlife. Late starts aside, we still have as normal a day as anyone can, no matter what time it begins.
Tasks and puzzle pieces remain the same, they simply get moved to new locations depending on when we wake up if need be. For example, depending on the time and season, the park trip may get pushed earlier or later than the ideal schedule. They may do schoolwork right after breakfast, or after dinner instead. It’s a fluid, feminine path kind of life.
So many people hear that we wake up late and assume we also go to bed at the same time they do. False. A day is a day is a day. We have morning routines, afternoon routines, and evening routines. None of which are set in stone. They’re more like guidelines and strong suggestions, if you will.
Onto the Daily…
Sundays and Mondays are typically down days where I don’t do much cleaning. I try to reserve them for self-care, creative projects, and gourmet sex. Unfortunately, the kids have been sick all week and the daily chores haven’t been getting done, because, well it takes a lot of energy to hold space for sick kids. Like it’s super stressful. Even more so these days.
Needless to say, the kitchen garbage was full, plus I had shredded mail and de-cluttered my craft area the other day. Those bags were still by the can. I joked with my husband as we crossed paths and he silently looked around. He literally never complains or even remarks when there is a mess, but I see him see it. My self-imposed guilt made me feel like I had to say something. “It looks like we had a fucking frat party in here.” The kids are 10 and 11. Obviously no frat parties were had, but it was pretty funny to imagine. We had a good laugh.
Like I mentioned, Sundays are usually down time, but a special event has called husband away, and I took that opportunity to play catch up. I bagged up all the trash and recycling that had piled up. When I went to grab the bathroom bags, I realized I had missed bathroom day this week. So I did a quick swish and wipe of the toilets and countertops and then started a load of laundry.
Most days I have a quick oatmeal cup in the morning just to get moving, but today I was craving a bigger breakfast. The dishes has piled up in the sink so I made a game of it. How many dishes can I get into the dishwasher while the bacon cooks? The bacon lost, but I cleared the sink so I still won. I had scrambled eggs with cheese, avocado toast, extremely crispy bacon, and some organic strawberries that needed some love. (I waste more fruit then I care to admit. I’m trying though.)
After breakfast I finally got the chance to sit down and get this website started, which was a joy for me. I love making blogs and websites. I know this because I’ve made several over the years. It’s been a long process of refinement to figure out exactly what kind of content will stick. I’m hoping this one is the match made in heaven I’ve been searching for. This iteration by far feels the most true. We will see though. I am a dynamic, constant work in progress. Regretfully, I can make absolutely no promises this won’t find itself on the garbage heap like the others. But hey, it’s all in service to embracing the impermanence of all things. Just like that freshly cleaned house feeling. Am I right?
As simple as this project is, it still took several hours to get it all set up. Which means I missed my afternoon walking/writing session and didn’t get a shower until right before bedtime. I did manage to grab a coffee and cookie sandwich with whipped cream that was to die for, hit Walmart for baby wipes and new plant babies, and got the kid’s bedding washed. The kid’s room is a Thursday job, but as with the rest of the week’s chores, it got back burnered.
A Little More Backstory
I should take this moment to inform y’all that I do have help. There is no way in hell I could do it all by myself. Childrearing, homeschooling, homemaking, getting the kids fed and watered and out for some sunlight and fresh air? Plus grocery shopping, errands, self-care, exercise, and holding space for husband’s current and future businesses? And still manage to feed my craft as a creative writer, and my sensual self as a nourished turned on woman? Please. I am under no illusions that I can do that all on my own without literally killing myself.
I’m a firm believer in households with more than one woman in them. That can be polygamy, polyamory, extended family, mom friends, or hired help. Whatever you gotta do love, zero judgments here. Personally, I have used a combo of all of those. If you don’t have at least one day a week where you have some time to take care of you, please do that right now. Whatever you gotta do, do it. It’s cliche´ because it’s true, “you can’t pour from an empty cup”. It isn’t selfish in the least to make sure you’re full before feeding others. Let me be an example and a reminder of this very important fact. I am an expert at self-indulgence and making obligations feel good instead of burdensome. More on that in later posts.
That said, my part time nanny has a young baby she brings with her to work. So when anyone is sick in the house, she doesn’t come. Puts me in a bit of a bind as I have to suddenly get out of creative/sexy woman brain and back into the throes of the housewife part of the hussy housewife life. I do prefer the hussy part. She also is just really good at shit I am not good at. The yang to my yin. The sun to my moon. The masculine structure to my feminine chaos. This winter has left me flailing without her on way too many occasions. I’m a bit run down and not as well fucked as I like to be, but I’m getting by. No really. It’s okay. Don’t cry for me, Argentina. I’m fine. Cries into the pillow
As long as I’m willing to tell perfectionism to fuck all the way off, and get to doing things as they need to get done, whether it’s on schedule or not, it’s all good. Grace, compassion, and lots of clitoral stroking will get me through it.