I'm not good at being a housewife.

I have zero organizational skills and zero desire to pick any up.

Let alone
the kids' toys,
clothes,
or the dog hair that decorates the floor.

I'm not terrific when it comes to

meal planning,

packing healthy lunches,

following recipes (so boring).

I'm never caught up on laundry,

and I often find myself just staring at it,
hoping that if I do so long enough,
it'll just fold and put itself away.

I never look put together, and neither does my house.

I couldn't put together a desk or unclog a toilet if you asked me to.

I like to vacuum, but I think I've broken ours about four times over the past five years.

And my toxic trait is overloading my washer and dryer until they go kaput, and I need to call a service tech.

I don't keep my nails painted.
I don't keep the kids from painting on and ruining our dining room table.

I hate to

dust,

wipe,

or
declutter.

I absolutely loathe doing the dishes.

There is nothing about me that'll jump out at you and say
"This lady is a winner. She's got it together."

Because I don't -- have it [or anything] together.

I myself am not together unless by "together," you mean regularly falling apart, and then, well, why yes, I am.

But you see,
a woman doesn't have to
look the part
to play the part.

In fact, if she's wifeing and mothering right,
she won't be playing a part at all.

She'll bring to the messy table all the authentic mess that she is, and she'll invite and encourage those that she loves to do the same.

And what a gift that is.

To live in a household where it's okay to be

eternally frazzled,

divinely disorganized,

and

beautifully imperfect.

To live in a household and be married to or raised by a fault-filled human so that you can feel free to be the same.

I can't think of anything better.

I'm not good at being a housewife because I'm good at being me.