I'd Love to Be a Domestic Goddess--Really

Oh I am just so NOT the dominatrix of domesticity. Though if I got to wear cool leather boots it might change my outlook a bit.

While maintaining his virile masculinity, Shakey really is reigning monarch in this area. Though if the truth be told neither of us are going to be scooped up by Martha any time soon. And for the record, there was no false advertising on my part.

The signs of my failure were apparent quite early. My first bedroom contained a walk-in closet which always served as the perfect place to stash whatever was laying around when Mom threatened asked me to clean my room. There were shelves that lined one whole side, so I could just pile everything up on those shelves--until the leaning tower of games tipped out just a little too far and CRASHED to the floor scaring everyone in the house and earning me a glare and a command to march upstairs and pick everything up.

Even then I approached the pile the same way I approach housecleaning today--with panic and trepidation. I never knew how to attack the problem. I couldn't figure out how I was going to make everything stack perfectly...how I was going to get every piece in its proper box and then get all the lids closed neatly so they could be stacked in even piles. My heart races, I begin to sweat and the panic sets in. Cleaning? Organization? I lovely fantasy yes, but of my own hands?! Not that I'm above it no! I just don't believe I'm capable of it.

See I have a little problem with perfectionism--which if you met me you'd fall on the floor laughing to imagine since there is not one shred of evidence of it anywhere in my life. But the truth is if I can't do something perfectly I just don't want to attempt it at all. I HATE failing!! And I know that even when I try to master all this cleaning, etc. the house still isn't going to be ready for Architectural Digest so then I feel like well what's the point. It's a vicious circle--one I'm attempting to overcome. But I'm not going to go making any New Year's resolutions about it, because that would just doom the whole project.

What am I always telling the munchkins? Try your best...that's all I want. Maybe Mamma needs to heed her own advice. But I'm so sure my best could be at least Southern Living [she says tongue planted firmly in cheek].