Lost in Space

Last week I had a long conversation with an old friend, during which I confessed that I've been a little out of touch these days.

"I'm not sure where I've been, lately.  Just lost. Mentally lost in space."

I've been bored. Restless. Snowed in. Tired. And did I mention...bored?

"You've just been so...itchy," the Husband said a couple weeks ago. Which is quite an interesting word choice because we celebrated our seven-year anniversary last August. Could this be the Seven-Year Itch? I'm pretty certain my restlessness doesn't have anything to do with my marriage.

Before I track down a DVD of the Marilyn Monroe film for research...maybe I should revisit Betty Friedan's classic, The Feminine Mystic, in which she discusses the "problem without a name," a sense of dissatisfaction experienced by American housewives in the 1960s.

Is my current state at all similar to that of housewives 50 years ago? Educated women spending their days at home with dirty dishes, dirty diapers, and dirty laundry? Isn't it different for us now, after the Second Feminist Wave, now that Dads are more involved, now that we have the Internet, Facebook, and cable TV?

Anytime I mention my boredom to another at-home mom, I am invited to another play-date. And while I'm so grateful for their generosity, for their offering of time and company (really I am), I think the last thing I need is another play-date.

But what do I need? That is what I don't know.

So what do you think? Is this just the winter blues? Is it time for me to go back to work? Or, is it time for another baby?  Maybe I should just blog more, and whine less.

Truth be told, I am bummed about a few things: Keith Olbermann's split from MSNBC last week was a bit disconcerting, especially considering the fact that I was not tuned in last Friday night and didn't even get a chance to witness the live goodbye. I have been a Countdown viewer for nearly three years, and now, with little warning, it airs no more.

While I'm on the topic of politics, I've got to admit I continue to be bummed that during this time when our nation faces such huge problems, when so much is at stake...I live in a state where both Senators seem more interested in the agenda of their political parties (GOP and TEA) than the welfare of Kentuckians. Seriously, I never hear either of them say anything to the national media about what they intend to do for Kentucky. It's all "Tea Party" this and "ruin Obama" that. McConnell is scheduled for Meet the Press this Sunday, and I intend to tune in and see if he has anything -- anything at all -- to say about Kentucky, or if it'll be more of his grumpy talk about ensuring that Obama doesn't get a second term.

Like any good wife, I can also "blame" the Husband for bumming me out. I've got two beefs with him right now. First, a few weeks before Christmas, anticipating the flood of new toys, the Husband turned our dining room into a playroom. It is magic, pure magic, to have the Bear gated in there, flipping through her books while I'm working nearby. But it is also devastating (just a little), because my dining room is now a friggin' playroom!!! It's as if we have admitted defeat. We have surrendered, and the toys won...the kid stuff won!

My second beef with the Husband is that he put us on a money diet. It is just what we need after the gluttony of the holidays; it is just what we need to pay for college (ours first, then the Bear's) and reach some other financial goals. Generally speaking, I enjoy a little belt-tightening and penny-pinching, and I am well aware that people all around me are struggling financially in ways that we have never struggled. But when your personal allowance is slashed by 66%...you tend to feel a bit devastated (just a little). And so, if teasing the Husband, (say, calling him the Rand Paul of the household) helps ease that devastation....Well, it does.

All in all, I love my life. I love, love, love the Husband and I love, love, love the Bear. My gut just keeps filling up with a mix of euphoria and dread, with this sense that there is so much to do and say...and yet, I'm not acting on it because I'm not sure what it is I am supposed to do or say...

Any ideas?

Jaelithe

The Golden Rule of Housework

I learned the most important thing I know about housework from the Husband.

Little does the Husband know, over the years he has reinforced what I now consider the golden rule of housework. It is the key to staying on top, and most definitely, the first step to domestic peace of mind.

The Husband’s all important secret is this: “Put your stuff away.”

I’m a little embarrassed to admit the numerous times I have heard this statement (or some variation of it) from the Husband. Many times he hasn’t said anything at all, resorting instead to a more passive aggressive tactic that goes something like this: He cleans up; then I stumble in a few minutes later and find all my stuff stuffed into closets and drawers.

“Hey,” I cry in disbelief. “I had all this stuff organized into piles. It’s going to take forever to sort through it all again.”

I think this is a logical argument, but you might be able to guess his reply: “Jaelithe...you have to put your stuff away!”

Now that I work at home, the Husband and I seldom encounter this scenario. (Maybe he’s given up on me?), but that doesn’t mean his “training” didn’t sink in.

I wish I could say, now that I’m home, all my stuff is put away, but this is not always the case.

Although I like the old proverb “a place for everything, and everything in its place,” it doesn’t always come naturally to me. When stuff slowly starts to clutter the house, I make excuses for it. That stack of papers on the kitchen counter is there because I need to sort through them. My shoes are by the back door because I’m going to wear them out tonight. The vacuum is in the living room because I intend to vacuum tomorrow. (Why should I haul it down to the basement when I’ll just have to haul it back up in the morning?)

The clutter builds, and I start to overlook it. In fact, at times I stop seeing it! And soon something else happens that I cannot see -- but I sure can feel it. I become stuck, blocked, overwhelmed by all that stuff, and it becomes so much harder to dig myself out and get back on top again.

"Jaelithe...put your stuff away!"

Every day has its own rhythm and some days that rhythm might lead me to defer picking up my stuff. Picture it, my house, a couple weeks ago: I went shopping, came home, threw the cold stuff in the fridge and left all the other purchases on the dining room table. (Remember the photo from a previous post

That stuff had to hang out on the table for a while, because as soon as I got home I had to feed the Bear lunch, put her down for a nap, start dinner, pay a few bills, etc., etc. And hey, I’m just glad I was able to take care of the shopping that day because we were running low on milk and I needed nighttime diapers and a gift for an upcoming birthday party.

What I’m trying to say through this illustration is...I try to avoid getting all bent out of shape simply because I have some stuff to pick up. Instead, I make allowances for myself and accept that sometimes a messy house is inevitable.

Nevertheless, I’ve realized that in my house clutter seems to breed more clutter, which can then make me really tired and super unmotivated. When this happens, I make it my goal to put my stuff away asap, because I know from experience that a de-cluttered house tends to energize and motivate me so much more than a cluttered one.

Sometimes I take a look around the house and imagine what the Husband would say: "Jaelithe...until you are going to look at those papers, wear those shoes, run that vacuum...put it all away!"

Truth be told...despite my best intentions, I rarely vacuum “tomorrow” as I’d planned and the vacuum has a way of cluttering up my house for days.

“Oh holy crap, just put it away!”

Stay tuned for more thoughts on stuff, where to put it, and how to convince your spouse/partner/roommate etc. that you really can stay on top of the housework after all...

(Or not. Whatever.)

L@H

Meet the Husband

The Husband says no one is interested in learning about my family, but I'd like to introduce them. After all, I am the Librarian @ Home, so it makes sense that readers might want to learn a little about who I live with. If you're not interested, I guess you can always skip this post...

The Husband is my college sweetheart. I'm not sure if I can really call him that, because we didn't start dating until our last year of college, but I like to call him that (probably because I never had a high school sweetheart).

The Husband and me, December 31, 2000

When I first met the Husband he had a girlfriend, and he was a skinny, vegan indie rocker. He also thought I was a snob, but I wasn't really. I was pining over some fool who broke my heart and didn't want to waste my time getting to know some random new dude, especially one who was unavailable.

During the next year the Husband dropped both the girlfriend and the vegan lifestyle. (There were always donuts for sale in the music school, and he could only resist the temptation for so long). I ran into him every once in a while and eventually started thinking I'd kinda like to date that boy.

One fall morning I was at Starbucks, studying at a window table, but I had taken a break to make a list of places I could move after college graduation. It looked something like this:

Louisville

Cincinnati

Indianapolis

Portland

San Francisco

...

I was probably staring out the window in a daze, dreaming about my future, when the Husband walked by with a group of friends. We exchanged a wave through the glass, and then he came in to talk to me while his friends ordered coffee. (The Husband has never been a coffee drinker and despite my efforts to convert him, he will probably never become one).

I showed him my list of potential cities, emphasizing Louisville, because I knew he was from New Albany and I thought he’d be impressed. (New Albany, Indiana is right across the Ohio River from Louisville).

This Starbucks encounter was one of the most foretelling events of my life, because less than a year later, we moved to Louisville together. (Wow!)

I married the Husband in 2003. I love him for many reasons, but the one I will share with you now is his sense of humor. If I am cracking up, it is usually because of something he said. It is very possible that in a few months you will be reading this blog, cracking up, not because of something I said, but because I am writing about something he said.

The Husband is a classically trained musician. He switched his major to music the night before he started his sophomore year as a transfer student (a decision that tormented his parents!). When he was 25, he had a “quarter century crisis” and decided to go to law school, so now he is a smarty-pants attorney. I get lawyered every time we fight and often resort to this line of defense: What you’re saying is wrong. I don’t know why it’s wrong, but it is! Believe me, this is a lame defense, but sometimes it works.

L@H