Normally

Normally, I am a huge neat freak.

Like, get out of bed 10 minutes early so I can make sure the house is in perfect condition when I leave, in case I die today, this is what people will see, type of neat freak.

I know, weird and really in the whole scheme of things, unimportant, but it’s how I tick.

Well, the normal me does have this other side.

The side that lets one night’s worth of dirty dishes in the sink turn into dirty dishes in the sink, plus food on the countertops, plus unmade beds, plus clothes anywhere but the closet, plus make-up and hairspray all over the bathroom…and bedroom…and living room…and yes, eventually even the kitchen. 

I don’t know, it’s weird, when I go off the deep end, I REALLY go to the extreme opposite.

These two normals are what make me up, exactly 98% and 2% of the time.

Except, for when I’m pregnant. 

There is nothing normal about me then.

That 2% of the time normal me, becomes me 100% of the time, but if possible, amplified 10 times.

Cereal bowls stacked on my nightstand.

Every pair of shoes I own…out of their boxes which now litter my closet, but that’s okay, there’s plenty of room for said shoe boxes in my closet now, because none of my clothes are in there anymore…and the shoes, yeh, most of them are now in the kitchen.

My nightly Unisom tablet, I can’t seem to throw the wrapper away, it’s just easier to throw it on the counter…right next to the trash can.

I could go on, but you get the idea.

So this is what happens, when you’re puking.  A lot.

I like to call it survival mode.

You trash the house while you’re getting ready in the morning.

Somehow make it through the day at work.

Come home, take a Unisom and try to avoid reality.

John Wayne’s a good helper, but cleaning’s not so much his thing, but he has got us through this dark, dirty time.

{*Important side note…my Mom has offered time and again to help clean our house, but John Wayne insists he has it under control, “she already watches our kid and feeds us, she will NOT clean our house too!”}

When I was pregnant with the Little Lady, John Wayne offered to take over the cleaning. 

The 98% of the time normal me, bribed him with new Wii games to clean the house “up to my standards.”

Really, who does that?!? 

The ungracious, huge neat freak, wife…yes, me.

 

He cleaned the house “up to my standards” the whole time I was sick…all nine months.

This time around, there has been no mention of “up to my standards.”

Am I that much sicker?

That much smarter?

Gracious?  Yes, maybe that’s it, I’m finally gracious.

This time around, he’s the one who had a talk with me.

The other day over lunch, John Wayne casually tells me, “I’ll continue to clean the house, but I need your help.  Can you try to atleast put your cereal bowls in the dishwasher and your bras somewhere besides the kitchen table."

I’m puking less these days and slowly returning to the 98% of the time normal me.

I’m glad.

And I think John Wayne’s glad too.