Low Day

The word of the day: inadequate.

The first 15 minutes of today started just fine, albeit sleepy. But since then, it has been a definite downhill avalanche.

Nothing major, like when my sister was dying. That kind of stuff can tear your soul apart. Yet it also requires a kind of heroic strength just to make it through the day, which can carry you through. At least for a time.

Nope. Today is about the small stuff. The little stuff. The stuff of drudgery and dullness. It won't tear your soul apart. It will just drive you mad, like water dripping from a faucet. Drip - drip - drip...

Apparently, I am expected to keep stuff around until people feel like putting things away. Or else, I am to ask about every little thing before I take care of it. In this instance, it was something I did not know was supposed to be kept. Or something that I was told not to throw away five days ago (but I cannot remember ever hearing it, which means I totally forgot), which now makes me totally and solely responsible for either putting it safely away, like the cherished treasure that it is, or else living with it taking up space in my work area until the owner sees fit to care for it.  It was sitting on the middle of the island in the kitchen for five days, but I guess that was not enough. Silly me, I threw it away.  And got caught. And lectured with a look of incredulity, although in a kind voice. It made me feel quite inadequate.

Drip - drip - drip....

I also finally threw down the laundry from the middle two boys' room. Only the top layer has been skimmed off each week. For starters, I never finish the laundry because I have the world's worst dryer, and it takes me 3x as long to do laundry as everyone else in the modernized world. Anyway, the middle boys have not taken care of their clothes, and I finally decided to do it. The clothes in the bottom came out in one big clump. Euw.

Drip - drip - drip....

The Young Adult did not do YET another assignment. He "forgot". I love how they forget to do homework when I am not home in the evening. If I am not there, it will not get done. Unless I make sure it gets done, or make sure someone else makes it get done.

Drip - drip - drip....

Add to this the looks of disbelief  that a school day means school work. And when the work "runs out", Mom expects a student to review or, God forbid, study.

Drip - drip - drip....
 
And Romeo forgot what the shape of Africa looks like.

Drip - drip - drip....Drip - drip - drip....Drip - drip - drip....

Yeah....It is the little things like Incontinence of Continents that does a person in.

Inadequacy can be tied to the endless round of work that being a homeschooling stay-at-home Mom entails. It never ends, it repeats endlessly, and it can be quite lonely being so outnumbered.
Don't get me wrong. I DO love what I do. I do try to appreciate the blessings in my life.
But some days are just trying.
I do not get paid for what I do. I do not have a measure by which to measure myself, unless I look at other homeschooling families I know, which just makes me feel even more terrible. (They have six kids, all of them Rhodes scholars. That other family's house is always clean, her husband takes her out on a date every freaking week, they work family mission trips together, AND the kids are all Rhodes scholars. And this family...well, they have five kids, the mother is expecting, the house is always clean, the children are all athletes or musicians, they pray the rosary every night, the husband takes his wife for get-away-weekends, she cooks gourmet meals, AND the children are all Rhodes scholars.) No - measuring myself against the yardsticks of other homeschooling families does not help.

Yes, I do it all for my children, and they are my measuring sticks. They are great boys, and a credit to their parents. However, daily exposure to said-amazing kids can be less than uplifting for the one responsible for their education, their manners, their religious upbringing, their character development, their ability to do chores, their understanding of work, and their ability to one day grow into men who will truly consider their wife a partner in life and will not make her run away screaming that she can't live with a husband who cannot handle a flipping load of laundry.

Ugh.

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.