I've been feeling very satisfied about my roles as desperate housewife and baby wrangler this week. I wish I could tell you it is because I had been reflecting on the call of Titus 2 to be a keeper of my home, or that I've retrofitted a jacuzzi into my bathroom, or that Baby Girl is walking all because of my patient lead. But the real reason is because I was reading the gospel according to Martha while I was in Michigan. And now Martha is all up in my head.
Martha is not someone that I suspect many of us look at and think, "Well, if Martha can do that, then surely so can I!" We all know that she operates with a team of elf people prepping her kitchen and tilling her farm in the Hamptons and making sure she has full bottles of toner to keep her Botoxy forehead looking all smooth and supple. Rather, I imagine that most of you all are like I am and look at her and wonder: If I had what she has, would I still do it like she does?
Or would I sit back in my yoga pants clearing out the DVR while eating Twizzlers for lunch and still have traces of yesterday's mascara smudged around my eyes?
I'd like to think that I would at least attempt to live upright like Martha, if I had all that help. But since I don't, I try to steal germs of what I believe to be her lifestyle. At least the life that she purports to live, BECAUSE MAGAZINES DON'T LIE, YOUNG.
I was really inspired by how clean she tries to keep her office(s). So this week I've been cleaning up the kitchen before I endeavor to do any other shenanigans. I cleaned out the science experiments in the fridge. I've tried to have the kitchen table cleared before Lovey Loverpants get home. I've also really tried to live out the "no time like the present" with my other chores. And you know what? I don't have as much dread about all that I have to do, because I've been kissing all the ugly frogs first and then the rest of the details all look like handsome princes.
I know this sounds so fundamental, so big fat DUH to many of you, but I've been stuck for a couple months on what I esteem to be my duties and what I feel are things that eventually someone will get to, at some point. When a black guy becomes president. Oh snap that's NOW!
I'm amazed that something like an article in a magazine for hypermanic domestics could help me to refocus my priorities and realize that it's not all about me. I want a clean home so that I and everyone else I love that lives in it or visits it will feel at ease. It's so basic, but yet so hard to realize internally and then to master.
If you'll excuse me now. I need to see if we have any Twizzlers for lunch.