Someone pointed out to me today: "You didn't write anything yesterday." "Yes I did." "No, you didn't." "I'm sure I did." But they were right and I didn't post anything yesterday. Sometimes, everything just kind of blends together. Know what I mean?
We do not have a magazine-perfect home. I laugh when I think of how I was when I got married. I had all kinds of ideas about the kind of house I wanted and what I wanted it to look like, and I was an HGTV addict. I loved hanging things on the walls and repainting rooms and finding just the right combination of things to display on a shelf. I loved nesting.
Well, our nest these days is a little tattered. There are a few pictures on the walls. (Those are the ones Logan hasn't knocked off yet). We did paint, one time. I don't want to do it again for a while. We put in tile and wood floors and once, in a fit of ambitious determination, I hand-plastered the kitchen walls and painted it a mossy green color. That's about it. The furniture has seen better days and so has my sense of style. And there was a time when a situation like this would just bother me, for days on end. I would stress about it. I would go to a friend's house who did not have children or whose children were older and come home and think, wow. I have a long way to go.
So here's the thing: I don't care anymore. I don't. All that stuff...the pretty furniture and the paint and the throw pillows and art prints, etc...I know there's a point in my life where I'll be able to have those things again. Right now, I do good to put the laundry away!
Some of you may be confused about why this is even an issue. Some autistic children...or just some children, they don't have to be autistic...can be hard on your house. A lot of autistic children fixate on things...cars, or computers, or washing machines. In Logan's case, he has two great loves: vacuum cleaners and water. Not together. Just those two things. He'll play with other things, like little action figures or flip through a picture book...but those two things are a very big deal in his world. I have lost count of the number of vacuums we have. Some of them are ones he created out of ordinary household objects. Others are from thrift stores or ones we just bought. It's a collection.
The water is a different issue. When he was three or four, he figured out how to climb on the kitchen counter. I would find him in there, sitting in the kitchen sink in his clothes, soaking wet, and spraying water everywhere with the sprayer. I could get him down from there, twenty, thirty, fifty times...it didn't matter. He would always go back to it. Eventually we bought two wooden-framed baby gates and blocked up the kitchen entrance. People would come over and bring their kids to play and be totally weirded out by our gated and barred kitchen. "Who's going to go in the kitchen?" "Why is that like that?" And even after I explained it to them, it was obvious that some of them didn't get it. I mean, I should just be able to tell Logan "no" and put him in time out or something, right? Ha.
He played with water in the bathroom, too, and we ended up with water damage in there and in the kitchen. He used to tantrum a lot when he was smaller and we do have holes in the walls from the time he shook the stationary bike so hard it damaged the dry wall. We have scars on the floor from furniture he dragged, or picked up and down and slammed against the wood. (Yes, he is that strong.)
So someone asked me the other day if I had finished remodeling my kitchen. At first I didn't know what she was talking about. Then I remembered that a long time ago, I had been gung-ho to transform it into this cute, cottage-y little nook that was a joy to work in. I laughed. I explained that it was mostly done but that I just didn't even have time to think about it anymore. My friend laughed too and said, "Sometimes you don't have enough time even to worry about things," or something like that. She was right.
So I try to concentrate on what's really important. I try to keep the CDC at bay by keeping the house presentable. I try to spend time with my kids and put some time into my real estate career. I spend time with my friends and I don't know what I'd do without them. I make time to spend with my husband. And I forgive myself.
Why do I need to forgive myself? What did I do? Well, I forgive myself if I don't get the laundry done. I forgive myself if I didn't get the bathroom clean. I forgive myself if we eat fast food for the third night in a row, or if I didn't call that person back, or if I notice a layer of dust on some shelf that hasn't seen the light of day. Because it doesn't matter. Logan matters. My other two children matter. My husband and the rest of my family matter. The rest will get done. I think the biggest mistake mothers make, and not just mothers of special-needs children but all moms, everywhere...the person we expect the most from is ourselves, and if we don't live up to the standard we set for ourselves, then no one punishes us more or gives a harder time than ourselves.
It's like the conversation I had with my friend Caroline one time:
Caroline: "Girl, what'd you do today?"
Me: "I was going to clean the house, but I just didn't want to."
Caroline: "Ain't no point worrying 'bout that....You're just pissin' in the wind, sometimes."
It is important to do those mundane things...clean the house, buy the groceries, fold the laundry...but it's even more important to stay sane. And that, dear friends, is a full-time job around here!
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