When Jon and I married in 1993, we led very full lives. We both worked full-time, he coached a high school baseball team, and I sang in four different groups at church. We lived minutes away from parents and siblings and lifelong friends all vying for our time. Additionally, I was a certified People Pleaser (couldn’t tell anyone no) and Perfectionist (perpetually buried under a mountain of details).
It wasn’t long after our wedding that I realized we were pulled in so many directions, that we hardly saw each other. After long days at work and evening obligations, I barely had time to tend to our new home, let alone our new marriage.
Since these were the DINK years (Double Income No Kid), we had room in the budget to hire someone to come into our little house and clean once a week.
Hiring a housekeeper was waaaaaaay outside of my comfort zone. I grew up the youngest of seven kids to frugal parents who were raised during the Great Depression. I knew exactly zero people who had a maid, paid for professional lawn service, or employed a nanny. I remember once standing over a sink full of dirty dishes complaining to my mom that “we needed a dishwasher” and she replied, “We already have one. It’s YOU.”
But my sis-in-law assured me that my time at home would be better spent nurturing our new marriage than mopping the floors.
Our housekeeper was an angel. She showed up every Friday, dusted, vacuumed, mopped, and scrubbed our one tiny bathroom. She also changed the bed linens and washed our throw rugs. I think she sprinkled fairy dust, as well. Every Friday evening, Jon and I came home to a sparkling clean house that smelled like Pinesol. It was great.
Until…
I was in my office sharing with a co-worker how magical it was—this whole house-keeper thing—when another co-worker walked up to me, scrunched her face, bobbed her head, and said,
“You should be cleaning your own house.”
(Note: this is also the same chick who regularly approached me from behind to smell my hair because she liked the scent of my shampoo. I should have known better than to allow someone with questionable boundaries to speak into my life choices.)
Nonetheless, I felt immediate shame for paying for a housekeeper when I, Sandy Cooper, was perfectly capable of cleaning my own house. I AM THE DISHWASHER, am I not?
To this day, whenever I consider hiring help, I hear a scrunched-face-bobbed head scolding me: “You should be doing this yourself.”
And now here I am 31 years later, where every day I hear from you— listeners and readers—telling me how you can’t fit everything in.
As a homeschool mom, I have a hard time finding the balance between accomplishing school with the children, taking time for friends for my own enjoyment, daily walks (they take so long!), and yet wanting to sew or create daily too. By the end of the day, I feel like I never got to my "reward" after doing all the stuff that is required. I only did what was necessary.
I have two young children 3 and under and I feel like I am drowning almost always. I struggle with balance in every area - maintaining my home, eating/cooking clean meals, keeping up with relationships and time for my husband. I know there is no "quick fix" but it can feel pretty defeating to always feel "behind."
I’m struggling with balancing house cleaning with all the things I’d rather be doing (time with kids, ministry, etc). My house is rarely “clean”.
Today on The Balanced MomCast, I address the guilt and shame we feel about spending money on help, and then I offer six questions to ask yourself to determine if now is a good time to hire someone.
I pray you have a peaceful and shame-free weekend.
Love,
Sandy
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