domestically disabled

Man. What a week.

Ever have one of those days when you really start to question your place in the world? This was one of those weeks. And it’s only Wednesday. I think.

As someone who has always had success in school and career, it can be a bitter pill to do something you sometimes completely suck at.

Ahhh the oft underrated domestic arts. I hate Martha today. Who does she think she is making all us women think we can do it all? Where the heck does she get off?

We are now 3 1/2 months into Mommy-hood. I have permanent Mommy-Brain. (Moms – you know what I’m talking about.) So.

This week I madly harvested a wack of raspberries from the front yard, and I mean a WACK and, miracles of miracles, managed to get them into the freezer before most of them rotted. Gold star.

Except. Next day I’m pouring frozen berries into freezer bags when – crash bang! Woken baby and a dining room floor FULL of raspberries. Of course, during the cleanup, raspberries got all over everything. Goodbye chair-pads, our bums will miss your plush embrace.

I was proud to have gotten the laundry on the line during a rare bit of sun . . . Only to find it still hanging there the next morning, damp with dew and the clouds threatening rain. Dho.

My house still bears a whiff of burnt lentils from my attempt at Meatless Monday. New rule in the house since baby – always use a timer. I refer you back to the Mommy-Brain disclaimer above. In order for timers to be useful, you have to remember to set them. Destroyed pot count since baby came: two.

I made strawberry jam at about 6 am one morning last week in a mad attempt to put by my huge flat of fresh berries. Only yesterday do I notice that some didn’t seal. Again, dho.

My attempts to save money by using a coupon for my haircut have left me with feathered bangs. Yes, you heard me. Feathered.

As a new Mum I am learning to hold these truths to be self-evident:

  • I will always be covered in barf.
  • The baby will wake up at the worst possible time, hungry.
  • The cat will pee on the couch again the moment I pay to have it cleaned.
  • My husband will never learn to pick up his socks.
  • The very second I finally think it’s safe to slip into the bath, all hell will break loose. Loudly.
My home will never be spotless. I will burn pies. I will leave laundry on the line. I will probably never be able to stay ahead of my baby’s ability to dirty his cloth diapers. There will always be dishes to wash and weeds to pull. Things will rarely go according to plan and will regularly go spectacularly wrong.
It’s ok.
Say it with me : It’s OK.
Being a radical homemaker doesn’t mean being a rockstar homemaker. I have to get used to the idea that I can have these small disasters (that can seem so momentus at the time) and still be a good mum and wife.
My home is warm and inviting and regularly filled with the sound of laugher and the smell of fresh baked cookies. I am blessed to have a husband who loves me enough to give me what-for when I doubt myself, as he did this morning after reading the draft of this post. I’d rather have a less-than-perfect home where we can happily cram 12 people around a table for 8, where cuddle-time with the baby is more important than spotless windows and where we can cut off the burnt bits and enjoy the rest.
Sometimes good enough is good enough.

5 thoughts on “domestically disabled

  1. katie

    Stacey, I love discovering new west-coast based blogs, especially when they’re Canadian! Yours is very sweet. I came across it while trying to figure out if Pinks cure well (I caught a couple sizables this weekend). I’ll be back! And congrats on new motherhood!


    1. The Slow Foods Mama Post author

      Thanks Katie!

      Your blog is lovely, beautiful photos. I’m jealous that you’ve been out fishing, with the new boy I’m having to settle for fish stories and whatever I can beg from friends. 🙂 I’m curious to hear more about your adventures in cheese making!
      Congrats on your upcoming wedding – I laughed out loud about you signing into Martha Stewart weddings . . . hehe. I’ve been there.
      Good luck with the curing, see you around!

  2. Pingback: acceptance | The Slow Foods Mama

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