Brutal Honesty

So, here's the truth. I almost never cook anymore, unless you count pouring cereal into a bowl, heating up something frozen, or slapping some peanut butter and jelly between 2 pieces of bread, and I miss it. I despise laundry with every fiber of my being and might give thought to a nudist colony if my post-3-kids, 30-year-old body didn't look so post-3-kids and 30 years old. My house is NEVER clean for a solid 24 hours unless I clean it and we leave immediately for an overnight trip. I have every desire to be mom of the year, teacher of the year, housekeeper of the year, and cook of the year all at the same time, but no one is cooperating with me, and God just won't add hours to the day or remove the fact that humans need rest - I've asked. I've decided, though, that anyone who does one thing well must be lacking in some other area. For example, women whose houses are completely spotless at all times when they have one or more children in the house are either on some sort of drug so that they never sleep, or they are lacking in their motherhood. I have met these women. I can back this up. Women who are awesome teachers have no homelife. I have met these women and can back this up. Women who are outstanding cooks could very well be awesome mom's. I actually have never met a good cook that I've looked at and thought, "Something's not right." Cooking is like gardening, but instead of a green thumb you have a chocolate thumb, or maybe a tomatoe sauce flavored thumb. Surely it's not a color - it has to be flavored. Maybe garlic. I always feel like a true cook when my hands smell like garlic from chopping. But, still, I wouldn't classify an amazing cook as an automatic good mom. I've met bad cooks that were good moms and good cooks that were queens of dysfunction. I'm told that when my sisters and I were little, our house was always a mess, too, although I really don't remember it that way. I do, however, remember my mom quite frequently asking us to clean up when I didn't see what the problem was. So, here's what I think. Someone should do a research study on what really matters to kids, which has probably been done. Do kids care if their house is clean? Mine sure don't hesitate to bring the neighbor kids around when their bedrooms look like they should be condemned, so obviously there's no embarrassment there. Do kids care if their clothes are clean? I can answer that with a hearty, "HECK NO!", although I would feel a sense of shame if my kids had to wear dirty clothes every day. Now wrinkled...well, that's just different, and, again, the kids sure don't care. So, why do so many people put so much pressure on women to do it all, including women?! I mean, we all know better than anyone how hard it is to keep up with everything, especially when you work all day and have kids who are in activities. And don't even get me started on the hormones that fight against us 2 weeks out of every month. I say, if you have the nerve to criticize someone for not having a clean house or for not cooking every night, somebody needs to feed you a sharp dose of reality. Let's just get real - either you get it and you've got some sort of personal issue, like self-esteem problems or being a pathological liar or not being in touch with reality or you're just a jerk; or you just don't get it, in which case you need to just admit that you are not capable of understanding and have no room to talk. I've decided that I have no patience for people who do not have a sense of realistic compassion - not just being realistic, or just being compassionate - but a combination of both. Being realistic is essential to not being an idiot (again, I've met these people, I can back this up), and being compassionate is essential to not being a jerk, and, for goodness sake, every kid knows there's nothing worse than a stupid jerk, right?