Working On The Weekends - On B-Metro

I never understood why my mom cleaned on the weekends. There I was, some known-it-all (incompetent), tired (lazy) teenager thinking my mother was surely an insane person as I became agitated with the sound a vacuum cleaner in my room on a Saturday. I was watching tv, for every thing’s sakes, couldn’t she see this?

That, for the record, is the most annoying thing in the history of being The Person In My House That Cleans - when other people dare get annoyed by the sound of me working my butt off. Don’t even go there.

But it was the weekend, geeze, what was wrong with her? Whatever it was, it’s now wrong with me, and I get it.

Transitioning from a stay-at-home mom to a working mom is… well… hard. It’s not the workload, sorry working moms, but rather the time it’s done in. There were several hours in a day that I could choose from to do the dishes or the laundry - now it’s “do them when you can”.

I know I can expect less from myself, which is a blessing in itself to understand that. I can let go of detailed things on a more regular basis because frankly, I don’t have time for that nonsense and we can all live healthy and happy lives without the cabinets being detailed. Who knew? (Well, I knew, because I hate stuff like that, but that’s not the point here)

It’s a Saturday, though, and I find myself cleaning.

Read the rest after the jumperoo.