I suck as June Cleaver. In fact, if they would have put a sitcom of our life on television in the 1950’s, the FCC would have closed us down because they would figure I was a bad influence on housewives.
June Cleaver always had it all together. Dinner was always in the oven; dishes were clean; laundry was laundered, and she did it all in heals.
Me, I don’t always have it all together. Around 4:45 I start trying to figure out what to make for dinner which is usually a bit more difficult than it should be because our dishes are all dirty and all over the stove. My laundry is spread out over four over-filled laundry baskets, and I barely have time to shower much less find a pair of heels to wear.
And honestly, this really bothers me.
I guess I always believed that I would be able to figure out how to keep everything running smoothly once I had kids. After all, it’s not rocket science.
And perhaps that’s the problem. Rocket scientists get to deal with the predictability of science. I’m dealing with the utter unpredictability of the knee high crowd.
I try to give myself a break. I think there are things I do well. I’m always there with a hug or a word of support for my kids. I try to give them creative opportunities throughout the day. I realize that these years are about them and once they are over, my little ones will be gone.
And as easy as that is to rationalize and understand intellectually, it is very hard to remember when we are running late to preschool because all 10 pairs of Magoo’s new socks seem to have gotten lost in the laundry, and the Goose has decided to spread garbage all over the floor at the exact time the dog has decided to have an accident on the carpet and the cat is nipping at my heels. During moments like these, I always feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like if I could just be more on top of things, stuff like this wouldn’t happen. Like I’m doing something wrong because of the utter chaos that surrounds me.
I work hard. I’m not an idle person. I try to keep my priorities in line. I just simply can’t live up to the ideal I have in my head.
And I guess that means the ideal is flawed. I guess anyone can be June Cleaver when their world is black and white and only airs for 22 minutes a week.
I know the trick is to be the best version of myself that I can be and spread myself across these dueling priorities. My goal is to teach my children by example how to live a balanced life, to live up to their own internal standards rather than ones arbitrarily set by a society that is expecting too much of them.
Sometimes though I just wish I could live in that sitcom world for even just one day.