I have spent most of my morning cleaning and reorganizing the playroom that seems will be a part of our home for a few more years at least. As I worked with my daughter putting things back into their proper bins and rearranging things so they would be out of the reach of my 11 month old son. I wondered why it was so important that this be done. It bothered me that for the last two days I had not made the children clean up this room and just let the mess stay. Where does this quest for perfection come from? My children certainly didn't care what the playroom looked like and we didn't have company coming over, but I couldn't achieve a feeling of peace until everything was put away neatly.
Do our husbands ever feel this need? Certainly Lou (my husband) cleans the playroom. He cares that the children are all safe--but he would never be embarrassed if someone popped in and saw that the playroom was in such a state. I think I am slowly starting to loosen these demands that I place on myself. It is necessary for my sanity. I no longer cringe when I get a B on something (unless there are too many of them!)--I understand that sometimes compromises have to be made on this road to a degree and that I must accept that I can't be perfect all the time. Why can't I have that same outlook on child care related duties. I know that my children will not grow up and look back and worry that their playroom was sometimes in disarray? I wonder--do we judge each other? Or are we just judging ourselves?
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