Ever since returning from our honeymoon I've felt this slow creep of anxiety building. The kind that makes your eye twitch at random for no apparent reason. All of a sudden I've become OBSESSED with homemaking and organization and crossing things off lists. Lists that I haven't even made, mind you. It's crazy. In reality, I have absolutely no innate homemaking abilities, and I'm only organized at work - and even there it's only in short and sporadic bursts. For weeks all I could see at home was disorder everywhere - like I'd been living in crazytown all these years and never realized it.
This organizational/homemaker maven alter ego has absolutely no relationship to how I am in real life. Usually I'm the girl who makes a list and promptly forgets about the fact that I ever made a list to begin with (let alone where I put it). I've even been known to hide my lists so no one ever knows what I failed to accomplish (let's ignore the fact that no one really cares either). And yet, here I am reading magazines like Real Simple and googling tips for home organization, child rearing, and personal filing? Right. I just about lost my mind recently when I accidentally dropped my blackberry on the subway tracks while trying to walk and type one of these new aspirational to do lists. Like full on freak out - and not even because I lost my phone or my contacts or access to work - but because I lost access to lists I made like five minutes beforehand! Seriously?!
So after a week or so of the persistent eye twitch that was slowly starting to spread to my thumbs (my essential-for-blackberry-list-making thumbs!) and my subsequent meltdown on the Q train, I decided it was time kick crazy to the curb. There is clearly no magical organizational stick that I can whackmyself my house with and trying to keep up with crazy the old fashioned way is expensive (and potentially life threatening if you're a headcase like me!)! The cute little color coordinated totes and binders and filers and labels and whatnot are not cheap.
So in thinking though all of this, I keep coming back to a question people ask newlyweds a lot - does marriage feel any different? I've generally assumed that they mean different as between the two of us, in which case, I'd say not really. Thankfully HH and I seem to have pretty reasonable expectations of one another as husband and wife (or spouse as HH likes to say). Other than getting a kick out of hearing our new monikers out loud and the slight queasiness about merging finances and changing last names (which I'm told is normal), marriage to each other doesn't feel much different. It feels natural. What I have gathered though, is that I apparently have some pretty unrealistic, and heretofore unknown, expectations for myself as a wife. Phew. I feel better already just putting that out there.
For some reason when I pictured myself as a wife, I imagined an overnight organizational and housekeeping sensation. Like a brown Martha Stewart, only younger and funkier. Our house would always be perfectly perfect and HH would be greeted nightly (ok at least weekly) with a piping hot homemade dinner. What was I smoking?! I've never been that girl, and honestly, I usually judge that girl. I thrive amidst a little bit of crazy. And I actually think HH gets a kick out of my crazy too. As with most things, putting my finger on the problem went a long way towards relief. For me and for HH who I'm sure is thrilled that my twice weekly binge trips to the Container Store have ceased. For now at least.
As a type-a-only child with an uber-competitive spirit, this is certainly not my first (or last) bout with way-to-high self-expectations. Although it's definitely time for me to put my big girl pants on and set some new goals and make a few lists that I actually keep track of (AND maybe figure out where my tax returns are!) - I am henceforth cutting myself some slack. Until such time as Ms. Stewart decides to inhabit my body, I'm going to just have to keep reminding myself that who I actually am is who got me here, and thankfully, here is pretty darn great. :)
TTFN
This organizational/homemaker maven alter ego has absolutely no relationship to how I am in real life. Usually I'm the girl who makes a list and promptly forgets about the fact that I ever made a list to begin with (let alone where I put it). I've even been known to hide my lists so no one ever knows what I failed to accomplish (let's ignore the fact that no one really cares either). And yet, here I am reading magazines like Real Simple and googling tips for home organization, child rearing, and personal filing? Right. I just about lost my mind recently when I accidentally dropped my blackberry on the subway tracks while trying to walk and type one of these new aspirational to do lists. Like full on freak out - and not even because I lost my phone or my contacts or access to work - but because I lost access to lists I made like five minutes beforehand! Seriously?!
So after a week or so of the persistent eye twitch that was slowly starting to spread to my thumbs (my essential-for-blackberry-list-making thumbs!) and my subsequent meltdown on the Q train, I decided it was time kick crazy to the curb. There is clearly no magical organizational stick that I can whack
So in thinking though all of this, I keep coming back to a question people ask newlyweds a lot - does marriage feel any different? I've generally assumed that they mean different as between the two of us, in which case, I'd say not really. Thankfully HH and I seem to have pretty reasonable expectations of one another as husband and wife (or spouse as HH likes to say). Other than getting a kick out of hearing our new monikers out loud and the slight queasiness about merging finances and changing last names (which I'm told is normal), marriage to each other doesn't feel much different. It feels natural. What I have gathered though, is that I apparently have some pretty unrealistic, and heretofore unknown, expectations for myself as a wife. Phew. I feel better already just putting that out there.
For some reason when I pictured myself as a wife, I imagined an overnight organizational and housekeeping sensation. Like a brown Martha Stewart, only younger and funkier. Our house would always be perfectly perfect and HH would be greeted nightly (ok at least weekly) with a piping hot homemade dinner. What was I smoking?! I've never been that girl, and honestly, I usually judge that girl. I thrive amidst a little bit of crazy. And I actually think HH gets a kick out of my crazy too. As with most things, putting my finger on the problem went a long way towards relief. For me and for HH who I'm sure is thrilled that my twice weekly binge trips to the Container Store have ceased. For now at least.
As a type-a-only child with an uber-competitive spirit, this is certainly not my first (or last) bout with way-to-high self-expectations. Although it's definitely time for me to put my big girl pants on and set some new goals and make a few lists that I actually keep track of (AND maybe figure out where my tax returns are!) - I am henceforth cutting myself some slack. Until such time as Ms. Stewart decides to inhabit my body, I'm going to just have to keep reminding myself that who I actually am is who got me here, and thankfully, here is pretty darn great. :)
TTFN
Yay U! I've known from the beginning that you are amazing. Dis-ease? Yup, you're right>>Take a look at your WTHSE,take a deep breath,and tune into absolutely fabulous U.
ReplyDeleteluv u...m