Today’s post is a great example of why the internet is so phenominal. I would never have gotten to know Faith had it not been for social media & the mutual friend that connected us. She is charming, brilliant, honest and really funny. Throw in some profound wisdom with great writing & you get Faith Dwight. I don’t follow tons of blogs, but I do follow Great Smitten. When she agreed to be a guest writer for this series I was thrilled. Here is what she has to say.
Liz asked me a few weeks ago to take on an Uncomfortable Challenge, and I was super excited about it. But as the days went on, I struggled to think of anything to do. As an American living in England, sometimes my whole life feels uncomfortable.
But then yesterday, as I was sitting in my big red chair in my living room, where I do a lot of my best thinking, it hit me.
Want to know why it hit me?
Because while I sat here (where I also do some of my best writing), with my feet up, typing on my computer, my friend Sharon was in my kitchen.On her hands and knees.Cleaning my floors.
That’s right, ladies and gentlemen: I have a cleaner.
Having someone else clean my house has long been a dream of mine, but definitely only ever a dream.I am full-time stay-at-home mom and a part-time freelancer.My husband works for a faith-based homeless charity.It was one of those, “If we ever win the lottery…” kinds of dreams (which are always funny, because we don’t play the lottery).
But a few months ago, Sharon moved back to our town after seven months in South America, and started cleaning houses to support herself.And I got to thinking…
“If it was only a couple of times a month…”
“If someone could just do the deep cleaning…”
“Surely it’s helping her out too…”
I’m six months pregnant, I write a blog, I raise our son, I cook dinner every night, and I run two businesses.
It was time for me to admit something very, very uncomfortable: I am not a supermom.
I can’t do everything. Something always has to give, and what has been giving is our house.Our dirty bathroom and our grubby kitchen floors.
So, I thought about it.Then I prayed about it.Then I talked to my husband about it (and he was really, really up for it) and we crunched some numbers (Mostly he crunched the numbers.That’s his thing).And then we did it.
We hired Sharon.
She came for the first time just before Christmas.I sat on the sofa while she cleaned, but felt nervous and like I should be helping.I tried.She told me to sit back down.
Now she comes every two weeks, for an hour and a half, and cleans our bathroom and kitchen, and vacuums if she has time.And it is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
I love how clean it smells when she leaves.
I love taking a bath in my sparkling tub the night after she comes.
I love not fighting with Simon over whose turn it is to clean the toilet.
I love feeling like I have more headspace for my son and my husband and my work.
I love knowing I haven’t given in to the pressure to be perfect, to do it all.
It’s hard for me to say it out loud (or to write it here, for you to read), because it makes me uncomfortable.
What if people think we’ve won the lottery? (We haven’t.)
What if people think I’m lazy? (I am, sometimes.)
What if people find out I’m not supermom? (Who cares?)
I can’t do it all, and while saying it feels a little bit uncomfortable, finally accepting it feels the exact opposite.There is freedom is admitting defeat.And in asking for help. And in paying a friend to scrub your kitchen sink till it shines.