Story by Amanda Dayton
I *should* have the dishes done. I *should* have a home-cooked meal on the table every night. I *should* have the laundry put away.
I *should* have the crumbs swept up from the floors. I *should* vacuum multiple times a week. (I hear some people do this daily?)
I *should* dust, let’s just say, more “frequently.” I *should* have the mail sorted and the calendar filled out and the junk drawer less, um, junky.
I *should* have the house put together when company comes by. I *should* — right?
But I don’t. Not all of it, all the time, at least.
And I could look in every room of my home, at everything I haven’t done or everything that’s been undone, and I could feel pretty lousy about it all.
I could let it bring me down and then let the little lies creep in that tell me I’m not good enough. I’m not doing enough.
And sometimes, I do. But on my good days, the days when I’m thinking clearly, I remember this:
My worth as a mother — as a person even — is not measured by how tidy my house is or how many dishes I have in the sink or how often I empty the baskets of laundry.
Those things don’t make me any less than. They certainly don’t make you less than, either.
So if at the end of the day (or multiple times in between) you catch yourself dwelling on a list of tasks you *should* have gotten to but didn’t for one reason or another, Shut. It. Down.
Because here’s the thing: on that day, the work you did held so much more value than a clean pot or pan does.
The work you do, mama, is simply immeasurable.
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