I sit here with a squirmy four month old.  My kids are [mostly] folding laundry.  And this is how most of my days have been going lately.  Me, holding my girl who does not like to be put down – or really even let me do anything else while holding her, my kids doing the lion’s share of the household chores.  I get to the end of my days and feel guilty.  Shouldn’t I be able to accomplish something other than just keeping a baby content throughout the day?  I mean, yes, she naps and I get some basics done, but not much.  She is not a fan of the Ergo, and there are limited things I can do one-armed…especially given her growing propensity to throw her weight around.  So, this is where I end up – feeling like I need to make excuses, wondering if my kids have too much responsibility, failing to get some things done that really should get done.  I sometimes wish I cared enough to put pictures on this blog.  I think I would like to show all of the imperfection.  But, really?  I’m embarrassed by it.  The messy table, the potato peels on the kitchen floor, shoes everywhere, toilets that were supposedly cleaned, but actually weren’t.  They all scream at me that I’m making the wrong choice, to sit here with my baby.  And it’s ludicrous.  As horrible as I am at maintaining order and cleanliness, I have somehow bought the lie that the work necessary to accomplish those things is a more noble, more godly effort than the, perhaps less taxing, effort of just being there for this little one snuggled in my arms.

(from 10/2/2014)

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