It is impossible for me to get everything I need to get done these days, and I'm only going to feel like even more of a failure when number #2 gets here. My bedroom floor has looked like a dirty clothes hamper for months, and up until last month, the downstairs violated several health codes. I need staff and the aid of modern technology to improve the quality of my life and to affect the illusion of my being a dilligent housewife and attentive, loving, stay at home mother of two children.
Staff means putting Tallu in daycare come September, and having a sitter this summer so she can have someone to play with and pay attention to her while I play nursemaid, get some sleep, and find the strength and time to do laundry and house cleaning for her, her father, her brother, and her mother. Staff also means a housecleaner come once a month to mop and dust. The aid of modern technology includes a dishwasher, a washing machine and dryer, and extra storage throughout the house.
It is no small miracle that I've survived the past three years of domesticity without the amenities I seek. I recognize that there are mothers and fathers who are in my shoes, and don't complain, just do what needs to be done, and would spit in my face for my whining. There are answers to my problems. They won't come in the form I imagine them, is all.