I Am Not My House

Ugh. I need to clean this place. Specifically do the dishes. Both boys are remarkable down for a nap at the same time. It’s just after lunch, and since everyone has a bit of a flu-ish stomach, lunch was half a bagel and some apple juice. Easy. And easy to convince the boys to nap today. We’re all feeling a bit yucky. I look around at what needs to be done, in the quiet of the nap time, and I am overwhelmed. But then a light thought comes into my head: I want to make a goal collage. And hang it over the couch. I know it seems a simple thought. And that’s what I need: simple. But I have been racking my brain to find the best piece of art to hang over the couch for a while now, and it’s stressing me out.
I think I am complicating things. I had been a renter for so long, that now, a home owner, I think I have to live in a perfect house with perfect decor, to maintain the value of the property. But, then I become precious about this house, and I sweat the small stuff, and I lie in bed worrying about the framed pictures and where to hang them. And then I look at myself in the mirror, and I sweat the small stuff with me, not just enjoying my good health and fabulous functioning. Lord, I am back to my pre-baby weight (sort of re-distributed, but I am back at yoga, and feeling fit) and I can carry around about 70 pounds of children at once, Nathan being about 40 pounds, and Jake weighing in at 30. Like this house, I’ve got good bones. God, I need to loosen up a bit! And the thought of a goal collage, with a dog, and a cottage and an Oscar Award, and a tropical vacation, all Elmer-glued to a big, purple piece of Bristol board, made me laugh. It made me relax. It made me happy. That’s what owning a home should do: make one happy. Not make one panic. I’m done with panic. I’m up with happy.
I read somewhere recently that our house reflects our inner thoughts. Ugh. Again, too much pressure. I give you that there is some wisdom there. I know that since my children were born and since my husband and I decided we needed to buy a house to give security to our children’s future (this is what happens when you have children… you are a bad parent unless you own your home) my inner thoughts have been a bit scattered. I want to simplify my inner thoughts. Just be happy. I want to simplify my home. Just be homey. The money will come to pay to mortgage just as the air comes for me to breathe.
I am not my house. I suppose I am and I am not. I am my children and I am not my children. I guess I decide. For instance, the moment the idea of the flu was uttered outside of Nathan’s kindergarten class yesterday, I empathetically watched him for any flu-like signs. And then when he got a fever, I immediately felt flu-like myself. I mean, I could lay down. Maybe I should lay down. But I want to get to that goal collage first. Just slap up a sign of happiness, like throwing on a bit of blush. And the dishes? I trust that they will eventually get done.
Thank you, God and The Universe, for this home, and for my health. I bless my healing and the children’s healing. And I give myself permission to love this house in whatever state it is in. But could you send us new windows and doors soon? (Did I mention we bought a fixer-upper?) Thank you! Maybe I need to add those windows and doors to the goal collage too!