This Girl's Logic....

One of my oldest friends is coming into town today. Last night, at 830pm, I felt compelled to color my hair. It could have waited, but I just had to get it done.  Ten minutes ago, I finished cleaning the house from top to bottom. I vacuumed.  I dusted. I ran the comforter to the laundry mat. I windex-ed the mirrors, picture frames, and glass coffee table.  I the shower curtain is in the washer as we speak.  I even scrubbed the shower curtain rings and that nasty stuff from the top of the shower rod. How does that get so dirty anyway?  And as I sit here waiting to get Oldest from school for his annual physical today, I wonder why I felt so compelled to do it all toady, this morning, when I could have just enjoyed this beautiful day.

It's not like she hasn't seen me through every awkward, blackmail worthy, stage of my life. She's seen this house look and smell far worse, having stayed during the potty training years. She's even seen this house pre-Tony's muscle and elbow grease.  She may not even recognize the outside since last year with the tree being gone and the re-landscaping. Besides, she could care less what my house looks like, how messy it is, or how many gray hairs I have. She'll likely notice the new windows and completely disregard the missing window frames that still need to be done. Once Mr. Chewey falls asleep on her lap, the myth of our fur-free home will be forever debunked. And she has nephews... she knows what a teenage boy's bedroom smells like.

Yet still, here I was cleaning, primping, getting it all done.  For who?  Truthfully, it's for me.  I have this incessant need to get it all done, everyday.  I feel as if I don't, I can't sit down and relax and just visit. Or worse, when we go to dinner tonight instead of being lost in old gossip, my mind will be lost to packing tomorrow's lunches and the cell phone contract I haven't updated. Inevitably, after I finish Oldest's appointment, retrieve Youngest from school and bring him to his poorly planned doctor's appointment, I will then cook dinner for Tony and the boys before we head out for a girl's night, the location of which still to be determined. Do I have to cook?  Nope.  Truth is Tony is completely capable of feeding himself, the boys, and a small army.  He'll likely think I'm crazy for even thinking about everyone else's dinner and tell me to go out instead. But if I do that, forgo everyone else and just think of me, I'll feel bad.

So the question really is, why do I do that to myself?

My sense of worth is not solely tied into being a wife and mother. I was never one who only wanted to stay home and cook and clean.  It's not some deep seated thing from my childhood where I couldn't go out to play until I finished my chores.  Gawd knows Tony could care less if the shower rings are clean, and he'd be happy as can be ordering pizza for dinner. And truthfully, the kids would welcome the break from my incessant nagging.  So why do I make myself crazy cleaning, running errands, cooking, etc. when it's my day off and I could just take a nap and then head out for some much needed girl time?

*sigh*

And the irony of it all isn't that my friend doesn't care, or that Tony and the boys are happy as can be without all my fussing.  It's that in the end, I will go out once it's all done, and likely come home to dishes that need to be washed, homework papers strewn across the living room, and if Youngest gets his way, ice cream dripped on the counter top.

And in reality, I'm really okay with that.

Which is the least logical part of it all.