Saturday

It is my son's 18th birthday today.  I want him to get to have over the friends he wants to tonight.  I want to clean and make it good.  But you know, he doesn't even help at all during the week and yesterday...the day I had to work while all of the kids were home?  Oh my.  Seriously.  It's a wreck.  And normally I could just push through and get it all nice...but wow.  I need to get my leg rested too.  And maybe a part of me just doesn't want to.  Is tired of fixing it for everyone.  Is tired of fighting this particular battle.  I am weary of trying to plug the holes in the dam...or hold back the avalanche....I've been doing it for so many years.  I don't want to.  I just want them to "get" it.  To have compassion.  Every single one said, " I didn't really make a mess."  Really.  Every one.  I'm stunned.  I clean up the sugar that they powder the counters with.  The drink cups from cocoa, tea and honey, juice or milk....that are often stuck to the counter.  I scoop the cereal out of the bowls.  I pick up the trash off of the floor.  I load the dishwasher every morning and clean the counters.  Usually I wash the pans as well.  Yesterday, I didn't do that.  Three teens at home...you'd think that they could do something, right?
I really need order in my home.  It's just like holding back waves.  My kids are simply at that place.  And I am simply so done with fighting.  I want to ask. I don't want to have to keep telling again and again.  If they do something once a week, it's big news.  My daughter may unload the dishwasher each day.  And it makes her feel like she is the queen.  Stresses me.  Want to be grateful...and I want to say, "guys, look around, it's only four of us and I clean up in the morning before I go and on the weekends."
So, here I am.  Leg up.  Hurts.  Knowing that I have to get up.  Tried of using all of my energy just to get back to the basics.  Frustrated.  Very.  But, it is what it is.
blessings.