Itchy

Next year I will take the Monday after the party off from work. I can’t begin to tell you what a disaster my house is. I have mentioned my OCD tendencies here before. I don’t do well when I have to leave things unfinished or disorganized. The only way I can describe how I feel is that it’s like there’s an itch I can’t scratch. It’s just … uncomfortable.

I’m working on this. I’m trying to learn to “let go.” I have two kids. I work full-time outside of the home. And I have high standards. Nobody but me cares that my pantry is completely disorganized after two straight days of cooking and baking (there were many people in the kitchen and not everyone shares my love of organization—I don’t fault them in the least and actually envy them for not noticing/caring). I realize how unattractive this makes me sound.

The five dozen balloons that looked so lovely hanging strategically on every other fence post yesterday are now deflated and on the floor of the kitchen. And living room. And office. Basically our house is dead balloon-central. (I'll save the story of how Erin and I were awakened this morning by yes, balloons (they had drifted upstairs, lulled by the breeze of the bedroom ceiling fan. Hilarious).

There are piles of laundry because Erin’s mom is sleeping in the basement/playroom/guest room and I don’t want to run the dryer down there since there is no air conditioning and it can get warm.

There are baskets of folded laundry to put away.

All three beds need linens changed. I set clean linen out Saturday morning. Did it get done? Um, no.

There are bags of beautiful new clothes, all too big, for the kids, from Erin’s mom. They need to be sorted and organized and washed.

Leo’s gorgeous train set from Grandpa and Grandpa (thanks again guys!) is quite large and in the middle of the living room rug. He adores it. Won’t stop playing with it. And we need to get him a little table to set it on I think.

The van is a disaster from the multiple errands that were run this weekend. There are still cases of seltzer to unload from Costco. Leo had an “issue” in his car seat Friday night and it still hasn’t been properly attended to (we need vinegar and some scrubbing. Can someone please explain why you can’t wash a Britax car seat cover? Grrr). There are too many pieces of Veggie Booty to count on the floor and two of Ellie’s pacifiers are missing. I know they are under a seat.

I just need one, kidless, ice coffee filled day to get it all done.

In the grand scheme, I know that none of these things matter. I know that I worry about the little things because I can’t control the big things (thanks Dr. Freud). I know everything will eventually get done. And then there will be other tasks, and more itches I can’t scratch. The moments in which everything is just “so” are fleeting, if not non-existent. But they are sweet. But so are my children, who are so often the cause of the so called “itches.” And yes, I’m aware of the irony.