Sometimes I wonder how people manage being grown ups.
Like, when I go to train dogs in people’s houses and the houses are spotless show homes despite two smiling, well behaved children in the house and I wonder how they manage to work well paying jobs and raise two kids and still don’t have soap rings in their bathroom sink.
PH and I both heavily value a clean home. We both grew up in clean homes.
We do not live in a clean home.
At the best of times, we manage a cluttered and messy home.
When we’re doing well, the only dishes in the sink are from the past 24 hours. The toilet has been cleaned within the last two weeks and the fur has been swept off of the floor when guests come over.
Then there are times like now.
The first trimester exhaustion kicked in for me around the 7 week mark. Until that day, PH and I had fallen into a rhythm for managing our family dishes. I washed them at night before bed, and he took them out of the dry rack and put them away the next morning. Each of us kept up our end of the deal because the other person kept up theirs.
Suddenly, I didn’t have it in me to wash those dishes. I looked at them, and I walked away.
And now our kitchen looks like this: