everything is accomplishment...

I'm realizing how much I thrive on what I can look out and say I accomplished.

Even though I'm rarely ever feeling "on top" of my to do's, even before baby, I guess I've come to expect that I should have control over what gets done in my day and what is alright to leave for tomorrow.  I felt like there was enough hours in the day to get a few things done and to still have quality time to spend with my daughter.  The standards around my house are really not all that high, (although as a perfectionist, I'm starting to wonder if that's true...) but if I can maintain things at a relatively functioning level?  I'd say I generally feel accomplished.

(On a side note, it really is sad and embarrassing how much of a direct correlation there is between my inner sense of peace and the level at which my home is picked up.  I know I'm not the only one.)

But in some seasons of life, like the post partum one I'm in now, even the simple is daunting.

Impossible feeling.

Even the smallest luxury like a shower is hard to come by.

And I reach the end of a day and feel a little angry.  What have I accomplished??  I look at my husband, who had hours of quiet, uninterrupted study time and adult conversation at work that day (with no one yelling at him, spitting up on him, or demanding from him, I might add) and I feel jealous.

And maybe a little bitter, if I'm being honest.

Being a stay at home mom is HARD.  Sometimes physically.  But always, ALWAYS emotionally.

There's almost nothing better than it for one's sanctification.

(I'm fortunate my husband "gets" this, and is nothing but respectful and encouraging to me about my job at home, but I know that's not typically the case in marriages.)

It's in the struggle of feeling unimportant, shut in and alone, helpless and overwhelmed, serving people nonstop who are unappreciative and immature-- I'd put it up against my husband's job any day.  :)

But it's in this time I must change my perspective.  I'm running myself crazy to think I can carry on as I always have.  That my accomplishment looks the same today as it did three months ago.

I must choose to see everything, and I mean everything, as accomplishment.

Like getting showered and putting on pants without an elastic waistband.  No makeup, a quick blow-dry to the hair, but all the necessary body parts got clean, so I'm happy.

Everything is accomplishment.

Like collecting clothes from everybody's hamper and throwing them into a laundry basket in order to do laundry someday.  Sure, they're no cleaner than they were the day before, but hey- at least now they're centrally located.

Everything is accomplishment.

I put five stamps on some thank you cards that have been laying around the house ready to mail for two months now.  Of course I didn't get outside to put them in the mailbox yet, but I'm making progress.  The stamps are on.

Everything is accomplishment.

Yesterday I ventured out, dressed AND showered, to take not one, but TWO, children to Target to buy an outrageously expensive formula and new bottle nipples for my infant's reflux issues.  Came home, only to find I bought the wrong kind for the bottles we have.

But everything, even getting out, is accomplishment.

I played a game of Fancy Nancy Dress Up with my daughter while my baby was napping.  We played on the living room floor next to the two foot pile of hand-me-down clothes strewn across the rug for the past seven days.  And the fact that the clothes had been taken out of the black plastic trash bag that sat in the middle of my kitchen for a few days prior to that was also accomplishment.

Indeed, everything is accomplishment.

Lunch and dinner were BOTH prepared by me at home the other day.  No, it wasn't nutritionally balanced or grain-free or organically produced or paleo-approved or any of the things that are heralded as true accomplishments these days.  But it was food.  It tasted good.  It filled my family's bellies.  I even heard a "I love these noodles, Mom."

Everything is accomplishment.

My baby is currently sleeping next to me.  My daughter is in preschool.  My house is quiet and I could be getting so much "accomplished" in these minutes.  Instead, I'm typing away to you, sweet blog readers, because maybe my mental health is a little more important than a clean kitchen today.

Everything is accomplishment.