My Dirty Little Secret...

I tried to pretend I wasn't that person. It took years to admit even to myself that I was who I am and even as I write this I have most people fooled...

When I was a child it was tolerated. When I was a teenager it was expected. When I got married...well that's when the true charade began...

During the first year of my marriage we lived in my nanny and poppop's basement apartment. It was small. I'm talking barely a room and a half. We had a lot of stuff. It was cluttered. It was disorganized and it was okay. We were in our honeymoon phase and it didn't matter. But still I blamed the size on "my problem". I swore to myself and my husband that as soon as we had our house built I would be better.

When we first moved in our very own house things were much like the basement apartment except larger scale. First I used the excuse of having to unpack and get around to organizing. Then later I played on the fact that I held down two jobs and was never at home. I even made comments stating the fact that if I worked normal hours like a normal person things would be different.

Things rocked on for five years without much change. Then came the day I had been waiting for. The positive pregnancy test. For some reason I thought this would change me. For some reason I thought this was the key that would turn me into the person I had been trying to convince myself and everyone around me that I could be. Wanted to be. Tried to be.

After I had Cooper I wasn't supposed to do anything. Doctor's orders. I even complained about it and said how I really wished I could be up doing something. Then after I got medically cleared...well a new baby was a lot of work...I was tired...I was stressed...I would still get there...one day...

The truth has finally hit me this week. I am who I am. I'm happy with who I am. I am a messy person. I'm not organized. Sometimes I'm late. (Okay almost always I'm late). I'm not supermom. I'm definitely not superwife. Most days I would much, much rather pick up Chinese take out and watch a movie with my husband rather than come home and cook supper. I hear about these wonderwomen who cook three meals a day, pack lunches, keep the bathroom clean and make the bed everyday. Seriously, why? If that's the lifestyle you choose I commend you but don't you ever feel like maybe you're missing out on life a little. I find joy in actually spending time with my husband and playing with my son. I don't find joy in washing dishes. We've had nights that consisted on doing nothing but sitting on the couch watching tv but we've had so much fun together they're forever logged into my memory. I've never had that kind of experience from cleaning a toilet. Yes, I know there are certain things that must be done in order to keep a house running. (And well, frankly to keep dfacs from knocking on my door and wanting to take my child away).

But seriously these people who go overboard and become so anal about not only basic cleanliness but also organization and complete order to their lives...I just don't know about...I mean where's the fun in that? With us, everyday, everything, is an adventure; Do I have clean clothes for work? Did I pack enough diapers for our trip? Did I remember to hang up the fly strips in the kitchen to catch all the gnats?