Clean Home Plan: routines & assignments

A few days ago I shared with you my desperate need to form an action plan for keeping my home in working order. After leeching information, tips, and how-to's from friends and internet sources (see below), I have written up a rough plan for creating a clean and efficient home. To start, I have developed a routine for both the morning and the evening. These routines are designed to help me maintain an orderly home as well as to ground me with a plan for success.

I have always scoffed at plan-makers and goal-setters, only because I have been insecure of my lack of ability to make plans and set goals myself. Alas, those homemakers are the ones who I now aspire to, recognizing their wisdom and practicality. After all, how I run my home effects more than just myself.

I have also assigned chores to each day of the week. This way, I can say with confidence that I have in fact cleaned my bathroom this week, and I can rest assured that no one day is left with hours of catch-all cleaning. A little here, a little there, and done.

Here are my routines and chores. I am using this week to faithfully stick to the routines and see how they work. I am counting on needing to tweak them a bit after this machine has had it's first run.

P.M.

Goal:

Going to bed with a deep sigh of relaxation, and to wake up with a "ready" advantage.

After 7:00, when the kids are down for the night . . .

- pick up all toys and books

-clean and put away all dishes

-clear off counters, everything finds a home

-prep any foods for the following day's meals

(includes soaking grains, thawing meats, making kefir, etc.)

-wipe down counters, stove, and sink

-sweep entry way and kitchen

-fold and put away laundry (if for some reason this didn't get done)

-Relax! Enjoy a quiet, clean home.

-Go to sleep between 10 and 11:00

A.M.

Goal: Get up! Have a formed plan for the morning

that accomplishes the "must do's" so my afternoons can be filled

with "want-to's"

-Out of bed at 6:00 a.m. (yes, this will be the greatest challenge for me!)

-Shower, dress, hair, & make-up

-2 minute wipe down bathroom

-quiet time with God, prayer with husband

-(kids wake up around 7:00)

-serve a hot breakfast

-clean up breakfast, wipe down counters

-dress kids

-daily chore + vacuum living area

-(kids nap)

-read, study, internet

-prep lunch

Daily Chores

Sunday: rest

Monday: clean bathrooms

Tuesday: dust

Wednesday: deep clean kitchen

Thursday: vacuum all rooms

Friday: organize all closets, pantry, and desk, mop floors as needed

Saturday: laundry catch-up

Everyday chores: maintain tidiness through a.m. and p.m. routines,

laundry as needed

(about every 3 days)

We'll see how I do this week!

Here are some blogs I gleaned wisdom from:

www.flylady.net

www.passionatehomemaking.com

www.keeperofthehome.com

www.inspiredtoaction.com

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A clean home is a peaceful home

I awake to this scene:

My open concept living area, littered with clots of dirt hauled in by our puppy, books , books, and more books lined as a trail to the kitchen. The kitchen counters covered in coffee mugs, unsorted mail, a half eaten bowl of stale popcorn, two dead moths (ew!), and a cobweb on my windowsill. The highchair tray has yesterday's (or two day's ago?) remains of breakfast crusted on, and there are dirty socks under the table.

This is humbling and embarrassing to write, declaring to all of you that I am possibly the world's worst housekeeper.

I am a trail-leaver, always leaving this and that behind me. With me, stuff rarely finds a home, other than the kitchen counters or an unoccupied nook in our desk.

My personality is a dueling portrait of perfectionism and chaos. What to do when I can't seem to keep clean yet melt down over every mess?

My solution is to learn to keep a tidy, organized, and clean home. Learn. This must be learned, as it is anything but natural for me. Yet now, with two little ones and a growing heart for hospitality, I see this need written in red.

So I am setting an action plan of learning and doing, cleaning and maintaining a tidy and guest-ready home. Even with two babies and a puppy. (I'm beginning to sweat a bit . . .)

Why is this so important to me? Consider the scene I presented earlier. Starting my day in a home that is not only unpleasant to be in but is also hindering anything productive from happening in my day to come is not a good thing. Time is limited. I desire to spend time reading with Rafferty, going on a prayer walk over this mountain land, baking apple-spice cookies, and writing.

When my home is orderly, I can breathe deep, quiet my heart, and have peaceful, intentional days. When my home is dirty, untidy, and unorganized, I feel pressure to get it clean quickly, overwhelmed by the clutter, and frazzled. Frazzled leads to stressed in a quick beat, stress leads to short tempers, complaining attitudes, and unsettled, chaotic home.

I believe the home is of great value. I want our home to be a Christ dwelling refuge for my children, as well as for my husband and myself, and anyone who walks through our door. I want beauty, reflective of God's image, to be clearly seen in this atmosphere. And that is truly what I am set to do; I want to build an atmosphere fit for seeing Christ and the beauty he brings to a home.

Mess distracts. A clean home can enhance the atmosphere, bringing life and peace.

I am working on plans for how to make this happen, searching for tips and how-to's. I will keep you posted with what I am learning and how I am setting this plan into action on a practical level!

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Life Lessons from my 17-month-old

Sometimes I wonder who is learning more about life right now, me or my seventeen month old son? Rafferty sees the world as his to conquer. He is learning new words, including primary colors, the names of his cousins, and foods. Yesterday's words: thunder and kombucha. Today's learning project: legos.

Oh boy.

We bought him a small pack of the challenging toys, hoping to stimulate our big boy into problem solving. This new purchase has thrown our son into a love-hate relationship with America's favorite building block. He clearly loves the legos, as they are the first thing his chubby hobbit feet run to out of the crib. He also apparently hates the impossible game as he has now learned to grunt in frustration even before reaching for one.

I know he is still young to figure this type of toy out on his own, so I sit and help the sausage fingers line up the holes and make a match. Over. And over. And over . . . and over.

My son, "The Thinker", as my dad calls him, dresses his face with the most concentrated of expressions, and he is determined. I tell him amidst each frustrated screech, "it is okay to struggle, you can do it." His look in response resembles doubt and he signs please for some help. Another cycle of over and overs and "There! You did it!". He claps and is the conquerer of the world as he set out to be.

I don't desire to conquer the world, so much as to simply stick with my own hard stuff, put on my most concentrated face and keep going to completion.

Even as I doubt my ability to accomplish much, the nearly much of life isn't the fullness I crave. I want to finish what I set out to do, the little things building the bigger. I speak of struggle to my baby, yet I flee from it myself, be it mental pursuits, household battles, spiritual harvests, or taking on the post-baby fat held on by too many late night sweets.

Perfection, my ever lurking enemy, tells me I must never fail (the Liar whispers that failure marks me unlovable). This is not realistic or encouraging. I simply pray for the maturity and discernment to know which learning projects I should pursue, and finish what I have started. The best choice at times may be to put aside what I started, if my priorities are not being met, but I shudder at becoming the woman who cuts loose all efforts because I have sweat on my brow. Rewards come with the sweat.

Learning to stack legos is a little thing, but this battle of struggle to success is a mountain at seventeen months! Thank you, baby boy, for teaching your mommy. I look forward to my next lesson.

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Yelling Fever

There are certain things I can't stand.

I can't stand should-have-been-amazing movies now unwatchable because of the never ending swearing.

I hate cold food, that was intended to be served hot.

I am sickened by my overgrown cuticles.

I loathe flossing.

But one thing I truly despise is hearing parents yelling at their children. I am not referring to life saving screams of "Watch out!" before little feet hit the car bound pavement. Or the life training rebukes in raised tones of "You do not speak to me in that manor, young lady." (Thank you, Dad.)

The yelling, that as you listen and watch the scene, you can see the child's face fall in despair.

I had managed an outing with my two kidos this past week to Hobby Lobby for craft inspiration and time passing. Cosette asleep in the Becco carrier and Rafferty sitting in the cart's seat, pointing endlessly at the lights and exclaiming long "ooooohhhhhh"'s. As we weaved in and out of each craft filled aisle, we heard an angry mom letting out steam.

Her words were as follows:

"Knock it off!"

"You are driving me crazy, stop it!"

"Shut up, I'm talking!"

"Leave it. Move! Move!"

This continued for several minutes. All I heard from the small child were cries of "Mommy!". When our paths crossed in an aisle, I saw the little boy standing, arms stretched out to his mother, desperately wanting to be comforted. He may as well have been crying to a wall. He was clearly not going to be embraced by this woman.

What impacted me the most was my fifteen month old son reacting to these despairing words. He would turn his head to find the sound with each exclamation and frown, understanding something was not right.

I do not know if this woman was having the worst day of her life. I do not know if her son has been misbehaving, or maybe his presence alone was just too much. But I do know that his face was pleading for attention and comfort.

I am learning (having two babies in thirteen months will help one learn) how hard patience can be to come by. Self control seems a mythical super power, certainly not something attainable by me, in this impossible situation. Yet knowing how our Heavenly Father views children, my children, I am given what I need to close my mouth and open my arms.

How easy it is to yell and tear down in times of stress. How life giving instead, to hold tight and instruct. Comfort first, then speak truth. God meets us when we need comfort, disciplines us in love, and is everlasting arms held fast. May I reflect these attributes to my own children so they may grow knowing His character.

Psalm 145:8

The LORD is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love

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Saint Stuff: Am I there yet?

I am a little kid, whining "are we there yet?" every fifteen minutes on our family's fifteen hour road trip. I am anxious to get there, to get out of the cramped car hot and sticky, to stretch out my legs and shake off the car-sick feeling inside. I had not considered the trip, only the destination.

I am turning 24 tomorrow, yet still feel like that whiny kid discontent and ready to arrive. I long for maturity and the things of a godly woman, a saint who's pores sweat Christlikeness.

My desire to "arrive" often leaves me discouraged and overwhelmed. I have so far to go! The road to "there" is forever away, an endless road. In my romantic head I picture my life full of cheerful kidos and loving husband, daily adventures of Bible reading, people loving, music playing, dreams and beauty. But in the reality of the moment, with two under two, a husband at work, loving less and seeing only chaos and my sin, my feet seem unable to take a single step down the road to sainthood.

Deep breath, see the cross.

God is about sanctification. I am not there yet, only a work in progress, His work at work. I can practice, sweat out sin, forgiven, given opportunities to change out of this old self. I can enjoy this journey, even amidst the seemingly imperfect moment, for it is in this moment where saint stuff happens.

I have been made a saint. Now I can grow because He is the grower of good things and He has made me new.

My 24th year will be one made of saint-moments, I pray. Moments of choosing to bear Spirit-fruit instead of sour tasting wasted blessings because I was slow to see Him there amidst it all.

And He is here.

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"Do Not Be Anxious About Anything. . . including grocery shopping."

What is the opposite of a "type a" personality? Whatever it is, I'll bet it labels me quite accurately. Sometimes, to my fault, I don't set goals, make lists, or have routine. Often, I won't even allow the weight of life's bigger issues or events to take full affect. Having two babies in fourteen months? No biggie. Moving across the country? Sounds good. My nature is to go with the flow and let it all roll right off my shoulders. Most of the time.

The one thing that makes me shake in my boots and shiver with anxiety is . . . grocery shopping. Ridiculous, right? I know. Something about the parking lots, the check-out lines, the knowledge of no matter how closely I follow my list I will still forget something, make me dread the most basic of errands.

Since moving out east I have explored each major grocery chain, hopeful one will feel "like home". It has not been so easy. Perhaps my expectations are too high or maybe I'm looking for something that does not exist. The weekly trip has become so much more of an "event" than necessary. I have to give myself a pep-talk and prepare myself for walking down the aisle of canned foods three times before I realize the tomatoes are two aisles over. Good grief.

The Bible tells me to not be anxious about anything, but rather, to pray. And Jesus himself tells his disciples that the Father already knows our needs and to seek his kingdom first. Worry and anxiety do not belong in the Christian life. It may seem an insignificant or silly struggle, but God can faithfully use my battle with grocery shopping to expose and rid me of sin in my daily living. I am thankful for yet another opportunity to learn from the seemingly mundane activities of being a homemaker.

I think I'll challenge my "type. . . non-a" personality and make a pro and con list of the local grocery stores. After all, we have to eat!

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Baking Bread and Other Failures

I had the wonderful idea of baking fresh bread to go along side our soup for dinner. I found a recipe titled "Easy French Bread". Perfect!, I thought. It says "easy" in the recipe's name, so I should be able to whip out a nice, hot loaf without a problem. I carefully followed the directions. My final result: something sortakinda resembling a loaf of bread . . . but definitely not bread.

And I must admit . . . this is not my first attempt and failure at the bread baking business.

(Apparently I may be "killing the yeast"? Who knows . . .)

Nothing is worse than feeling like a failure. I try something that is designed to be "easy" and fail miserably. All throughout adolescence leading into adulthood, I have found myself desiring perfection. I should be able to reach success without complication or struggle. Struggling can feel embarrassing and shameful.

I am quick to compare myself to others, wishing I had their gifts and abilities. I too often overlook the specific and wonderful ways the Lord has gifted me. Sadly, this focus on self-perfection leads me away from a thankful and content heart. Be it in baking or other goals, failing is not fun. However, I know a change of attitude will transform how I fail. Stop whining, figure out why I failed, have a sense of humor, give thanks for the opportunity to learn, and prepare to try again.

Missionary Lilias Trotter said, "Take the very hardest struggle in your life, either inward or outward, and expect God to triumph victoriously in that very spot. Just then can he bring your soul into blossom."

My fear of failing and my drive for perfectionism does not please God. If I can daily surrender these struggles, He will faithfully grow me and renew my soul. How cool is that!

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