Mike and I are always commenting that there is never an end to chores as an adult. Whether it’s once you own a home, or once you have a child, or once you have to pay your own bills and go to work every day, it pretty much comes down to adulthood = chores. All The Time.
As parents, we have become creative multi-taskers, fitting chores between tea parties and episodes of Gabba and rounds of playing chase. I zip home on my lunch break and inhale a sandwich while running a vacuum over our bedroom carpet. Mike takes the trash out with him in the morning when he heads outside to warm up his car. We work together at putting toys away before Natalie’s bathtime, and while one of us is responsible for keeping her safe and happy in the tub the other is almost always doing some random personal care chore (flossing, cutting fingernails, getting clothes out for tomorrow’s workday).
Most days, this routine runs pretty smoothly. We are always busy, always moving, but there is the promise of a couch and Netflix waiting for us on the other side of Natalie’s bedtime. But when any one of us sick, or, goddess forbid, all of us are sick, those routine chores seem like a never-ending, uphill battle that we will just never conquer. It seems unfair that cereal bars keep getting smushed into the living room carpet, that the diaper pail overflows daily thanks to the digestive woes caused by Natalie’s antibiotic, that the kitchen counters are constantly sticky, that toys do not stay put away. There are noses to be wiped and hands to be washed and hair to be pulled from the sticky crevices of infected ears. These everyday chores become overwhelming when your body’s immune system is slowing down and all you can think of is the next time you get to finally close your eyes and get some sleep, sweet sleep.
We are finally coming back around to health (Natalie woke up this morning with the exclamation, “I happy! Very happy!”), and I know that this pendulum is going to start swinging back the other way, back towards a manageable routine. But in the meantime, I will admit that being an adult? Is hard. Parenting? Is hard.