I'm no master of it. Not with my children or myself. But the words keep repeating themselves to me this morning. And the blog is sucking me in. I lack the discipline to resist.
FlyLady sends me an email this morning, as she does every Monday morning, to remind me of our Weekly Home Blessing Hour. This means we spend an hour doing things like dusting, vacuuming, changing the sheets on the bed, etc. I enlisted her help a while back by subscribing to her daily email reminders and I must admit, she has been a big help. I wake up, after a good night's rest, ready to take on the day. Ready to get back into our routine and return to some structure. Because I suffer from PMS.
Perfect Monday Syndrome.
You know what I'm talking about. Monday is the day you're always going to start whatever life-altering habit you're obsessing about that week and become the person you've always wanted to be.
But I'm having some trouble today.
Inside my head there is a war going on. A war between the strict, Nazi-Librarian who demands order and structure in every area of life and lectures her children on the dangers of being too carefree, lest you end up living in a cardboard box and the hippy, free-spirited artist who likes basking in the sunshine and painting and music and dancing and warns against too much structure lest you end up living in an imaginary box that keeps you from enjoying life to the fullest.
This is the conversation they've been having this morning:
Nazi: I want the bedrooms spotless! You've been lax. You've gotten them out of the habit by letting them relax on Sunday. These toys should have been picked up yesterday! No fun today until everything on that mental list of yours is done! By the way, that list shouldn't be mental. You need to write that down. You need to post it for all to see and enforce it.
Hippy: But it's Monday and you've had a busy weekend. You all need some down time and some time to rest. Sister has a new little watercolor set she wants to use. Let her paint and she can pick up her room after a nice, long nap. And Brother is wanting to play baseball. Have you noticed the weather? It's gorgeous!! Nice and mild with a lovely breeze. You wouldn't even get hot. Why don't you all go outside and play? They're growing up so fast. Don't miss out on these precious moments.
Nazi: Play?! Haven't you had enough fun? You didn't do anything productive yesterday! That's why your house is such a mess! You have to get this FlyLady routine down if you ever want to get anywhere. It's only an hour. Can't you buckle down for one silly hour? That's why Brother doesn't want to do school! Speaking of which, you really need to do some reviewing today. He'll never learn to read well unless you practice every day. It's been a week since you've done any lessons out of that expensive curriculum you ordered.
Hippy: Don't push. He'll get it. If you push him he will hate it. Let him go at his own speed. What about you? Wouldn't you rather be blogging? You've got all these great ideas floating around in your head. Aren't you dying for that creative release? Let the kids have the morning off so you can feed your muse. They don't want to do chores anyway. You want their hearts. You want them to want to obey out of love and respect.
Nazi: (snorting) Yeah, right. Like that's gonna happen. You're turning them into spoiled, selfish, soft little brats. They need to learn about the real world. They need to learn that life is not about doing what you want. Take Baby, for example. You have no structure for her. You should have set times for her to play with certain toys. You should have her day planned out down to the minute. Kids love routine. They thrive on it. If you did, you wouldn't spend so much of your day chasing her around and picking up her messes. And when are you going to wean her, for crying out loud?
Hippy: Children need the freedom to explore. Don't stifle that with a schedule. And as for weaning, let her take the lead. She'll wean herself when she's ready. Breastfeeding is very good for her. She's formed a healthy attachment to you.
Nazi: Yeah, I'll say. You can't even go to the bathroom alone. She screams bloody murder every time you leave the room. That's a healthy attachment, all right. Hubby is ready for you to wean that kid so you two can have a life again. You should be putting his needs first. Taming the chaos would help you be a better wife. FlyLady says you should have a date night with your husband.
Hippy: But you've got the rest of your lives to do things together. Baby is growing up so fast. She is the last one. After she is weaned you won't have any more babies to snuggle.
Nazi: Can you say, "co-dependant"?
Hippy: Can you say, "tight-a..."
Okay! Okay!! Enough already!!
Perhaps it's not PMS. I think it's more like MPD.
Multiple Personality Disorder.
Good Lord. Now FlyLady wants to know what's for dinner. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WOMAN, LET ME BE!!!!!!!
Curse you, FlyLady.