Happy Friday!

Every Friday feels a little bit like the day before a trip out of town. Since I work outside the home on weekends, I try to make sure that the house is clean and meals are prepped before Saturday comes. It's a comfort to know that the house is ready for recreation and that dinner is at least planned as I leave my little family for the better part of these days. After all, this is Doodle's time off, and he works so hard during the weekdays. He should be able to spend time playing with his children, not cleaning floors or dreaming up likely possibilities for dinner. My goal, then, is to have everything done and ready to enjoy, every weekend.

I've been working the weekends for over a year now. I should have this routine down to a science. There are five days for me to space out the tasks of weekend preparation. And some weeks, I do just that. I cook and clean in small amounts everyday, and by Friday evening, I can sit back and relax with Doodle, who is also more than ready to sit back and relax.

But more often than not, Friday afternoon finds me on the edge of a multitasking cliff:
--3 loads of laundry in various stages of completion throughout the house
--2 sticks of butter softening in the large mixing bowl (in anticipation of restocking the cookie supply)
--vacuum plugged into the wall with only half the house traversed
--various refrigerator items sitting out on the counter waiting for dinner prep
--multiple tabs/windows open on my computer, one of which is a recipe for pizza dough, because I just remembered that one of my goals for the week was to learn how to make pizza dough from scratch
--dishes from lunch in the sink (okay, maybe there are a few there from breakfast, as well)
--a growing grocery list on the counter that I swear I will take care of this evening when Doodle comes home from work (after all, the store doesn't close until midnight)
--the breast pump set up on the couch, because we need more milk in the freezer for the baby
--did I mention that there is butter still softening in the mixing bowl?

And things become more complicated when the children decide to stagger their afternoon naps.

I've slowly made the discovery that being a stay-at-home-mom requires initiative, self-direction, and self-discipline. It's just like owning your own business. The profits aren't immediate, the hours are long and irregular, and a lot of leg work needs to be done during the start-up period before the organization will begin to run like a well-oiled machine. Like most vocations, you take out of it what you put into it.

Some Fridays, I end up going to bed late, just to tie up all the lose ends I've ambitiously started. Some weekends turn out to be freezer dinners or last-minute stops at the store on the way home from work. Some Saturdays I return home to find that my husband has done one of "my" jobs--one of those housekeeping duties that I missed or didn't finish during the week. He's a great man, and he knows that an unorganized home drives me crazy--even if it's my own fault.

Every Monday brings new resolve to stay on top of it, to arrive at the next Friday with some semblance of routine and order, and with a house set up for enjoyment of the weekend.

Week by week, more lessons are learned, whether by success or failure.

And now I must go address those sticks of butter in the mixing bowl.