By Nicole

I love reading old blog posts that I forgot I wrote!  My life is just a funny rerun.  The same things... the same things...  January 15, 2006... March 30, 2012... the same.  Haha! "I hate to clean. If you know me or my family, you know that we don't like to clean and that there is a HORRIBLE gene that runs in our DNA. I am fighting it with every fiber of my being, but sometimes it remains firmly embedded in my mind not to throw the shoebox away, because you never know when I might need it.... Anyway, the second part of my horrible genetic curse is that I loathe cleaning. I like things clean, I just don't like to do it; pair that with never having a moment that is really my own, and you can understand how hard it is for me to keep my house looking respectable. Oh, and our house, by the way, is the size of one of those shoeboxes I can't seem to part with, so one thing out of place and the whole place is cluttered. So, those are all my excuses for my family's ...

I spent a good part of this weekend cleaning backwards.  Every few months or so I clean backwards.  And here is why.  Saturday or Sunday usually have at least a section of the day devoted to cleaning up the aftermath of the week's tornado.  The usual culprits: dishes, laundry, vacuuming, and picking up, picking up, picking up.... overwhelm and exhaust me.  They are insurmountable chores that dirty themselves faster than I clean.  I've read blogs about laundry piles that have the reproductive proficiency of rabbits.  Seen it.  It happens at my house too! So, overwhelmed and frazzled , I go on strike.  And I turn my back on the dishes.  I waltz from the kitchen.  I sashay away from the living room.  I act as if I don't care about the crumbs in the couch or the pillows strewn across the floor.  I may step lightly away from my usual foes, but they don't see the grimace on my face or the beads of sweat growing on my brow...

A few months ago, I posted a review of Stuck by Jennie Allen . Part of the amazing revelation and great conversation that I had this weekend was about how sticky it can be trying to get unstuck.  On the outside, I do a pretty good job of making people think I have it all together (unless they know about and are reading some of my blog posts).  Even my husband doesn't know all of the battles that rage on inside of me.  For the most part, I shove my frustrations and fears and worries and shortcomings down deep inside.  I don't have a whole bunch of bosom friends, so I rarely confide in anyone.  That has also caused me anxiety in the past. And heaven forbid that I actually voice my unhappiness with myself to myself, let alone to someone else.  They might tell!  Word travels fast in a small town.  Even the well-meaning are well-known gossips.  Is there anyone I can trust?  I'm a Christian, no one can know I'm not perfect!...

Lately I have been reading lots of home decorating magazines, excited with the prospect of having a house in the next year or so... I have also missed work due to a sick self and sick children and got so behind in housework that I would not voluntarily invite friends or the county health nurse over for tea. The combination of reading lots of "home" magazines and being unable to do ANY housework is not mentally or emotionally healthy, especially when paired with the guilt that comes from not necessarily missing work, but feeling like I should be there because I have so much to do, and then feeling doubly guilty that I am feeling guilty about not being at work when I should be happy and relieved that I am spending quality time with my children, even if we are sick, because usually I feel guilty when I am at work because I am not with them.... (Only the working mothers reading this will FULLY understand me, but hopefully most of you have some idea of what I am trying to convey)....

The last thing I should be doing is sitting here at this computer. My mind forgot a long time ago what the first thing I should be doing is... or was. Because this is a blog about getting off track, I would begin by apologizing now, but since I am not actually sorry, just read on and prepare to occasionally back and side track. I just changed my status to quixotic, which I actually didn't know was a word until now... but am quite relieved to find out that it is, since it almost perfectly describes the way my mind has been working lately. Except I am under the impression that Don Quixote was delusional. Since I am perfectly aware that I am crazy, am I post-quixotic? Right after I had Connor, I was able, through page and paragraph reference of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and Fit Pregnancy to attribute forgetfulness and my sudden onset of intense ADHD-like symptoms to pregnancy hormones and lack of sleep. I can't remember what my excuse was before... a...