I've always prided myself on my work ethic. I'm a bit of a workhorse. Not always, but usually. When I took the opportunity of being a stay-at-home mom, it took me a while to adjust to the pace. I wasn't able to accomplish as much, physically, in a day, between recovering from an appendicitis and infection and neck sprain and childbirth, and the new and fragile being that helplessly relied on me at all moments. I found myself relying on written and mental to-do lists. I also found these lists rarely had items checked off.
Dogs are messy. Husbands are sometimes messy. Babies and leaking breasts lead to extra laundry. Increased appetites from milk production lead to more cooking, more dishes, more spills on countertops and floors. Within weeks, I fell straight into the stereotypical role of housewife. I was a homemaker, measuring my daily productivity on whether I was able to accomplish basic household tasks while keeping my new little baby happy. It is hard to feel productive when your productivity is so temporary and intangible, though.
When I got depressed or frustrated thinking about the impermanence of my daily "productivity", I would rebel from my own homemaking compulsions to try to tackle an item or two on my to-do list. Without fail, the temporary pause in housekeeping would be dramatically noticeable (especially to me, who was home all day to see it, and who would ultimately end up doing the majority of catch up), and the task being checked off my to-do list would take longer than reasonable to complete, if finished at all.
This cycle still continues, almost 10 months later.
This is the joy and frustration of an at-home parent. My son and husband are my first priority, and any time I try to make anything other than housework my second priority, a part of me takes a look around and feels like a failure.
Today, one week from Christmas, and while my husband is out of town for work, while I am fighting off a cold with terrible chest congestion, I decided to "be productive" and had my third day in a row of feeling a bit like a failure. Laundry is piled up, dishes need doing, my living room and bathroom look like near-toddler tornadoes have hit them, and my back yard can't be described. I didn't even successfully finish any of my holiday tasks.
Instead of feeling defeated, I took a moment to think about what I have accomplished in recent months. Sometimes you need to remind yourself of just how productive you are. My productivity reminder: I have an amazing, healthy, strong, creative, attentive, smiling, walking, loving child. I feed myself and my family healthy, delicious, and often from-scratch food, everyday. I've cultivated great relationships with new and old friends and family. I've made my health and fitness a stronger priority, and take at least a half hour everyday to make sure I am setting a good example for my son and giving myself a better chance of a long, healthy life.
I may have about 3 dozen unfinished projects scattered throughout my house, and countless more not-yet-started, but I've also finished so many. Just last week I sewed Dylan a sweater from one that no longer fit me, because he needed one. I've sewn 7 various wraps, slings, mei tais, and soft structured carriers for myself and friends to help keep our babies close while being productive. I've read. To myself and to Dylan. I gave Killian a haircut, and discovered his ear infection. I've set up two holiday photo shoots of Dylan, printed cards, and mailed the majority of our cards. These are all wonderful, productive things I have done. So, as I continue to struggle balancing tasks with life and family and fun, I need to remember that every day I get out of bed with a smile on my face, give my family love and time, and do things to ensure our health, happiness, and overall quality of life, I've had a productive day. If I work toward an ever-elusive item from my to-do list, it is just icing on the cake.
And of course, when baking cakes, there will always be dishes...
