Homemaking: Kacy Is Your Friend

…And she’s awesome.

Five years ago, author and blogger Kacy Faulconer wrote a great post called “Obvious Tips For Not-Very-Good Homemakers.”

Tonight, I read it … and then its sequel … and then the sequel to its sequel.

The tips themselves are great (if, yes, sometimes pretty obvious: but, honestly, even if they’re things you already know, it’s pretty validating to know you’re not the only adult who occasionally calls upon the power of Pigs in Blankets) in a way that will make perfect sense to anyone who thinks a cookbook called Cooking with ADHD is a good idea — but it’s Kacy’s tone of acceptance and cameraderie that really makes it work.

It’s like a friend or a sister or a cousin saying, “Okay, guys and gals, we’re in this together. We kind of suck at this, but we’re doing it anyway, and it’s okay.”

…And also:

He didn’t become Gandalf the Citrus Moderne Dot, did he?

Kacy Faulconer

Because, seriously, he didn’t. Because he knew he was going to have to get orc blood off dat shizzle, and you can, as Faulconer points out, bleach white.

My own education as a half-baked homemaker has been very much about giving up on visions of making my own laundry detergent and growing my own vegetables, then embracing my limitations (and strengths) and learning to work with them.

I may not grow my own vegetables, but I turn vegetables that we buy into a mean set of no-sugar-added breakfast muffins every single week, because I not only know how to do that, but like doing it (because I do it well, so it makes me feel good, so I do it more, which makes me even better at it, etc.).

I may not make complex gourmet meals every single day, but just about every evening I do cook a meal that my husband enjoys (fortunately, he is a man of simple tastes, and doesn’t object to a regular rotation of variations on Freezer-Marinated Chicken with occasional forays into Things Made From Ground Beef).

I may use a lot of workarounds, but little by little I’m learning to get stuff done.

That’s the spirit that Faulconer’s blog embraces, and I feel like it’s a spirit whose time has come. So go read her!

Oh, yeah — in other news: did Essentials yesterday morning; was able to crack out the flying chassees and a couple of sautes without my toe falling off or swelling up like a ball of bagel dough. This definitely feels like progress. It also didn’t give me any real trouble today, just the generic “Hey, I’m still healing a little” soreness that has become its temporary new normal (for a while, it was fiercely sore the day after class even if I didn’t do releve work or jumps).

We’ll see how it goes tomorrow.

My mood is hanging in there, somewhere in the neighborhood of the Upper Doldrums. It’s not approaching “good” yet, but it’s at least more tolerable. I am more able to ignore Bad Thoughts (admittedly, by playing Bubble Wars or baking, but still…) when they arrive (but they’re still arriving).

The upside of my current mood? Holy cow, I have never been this productive in the kitchen. I mean, I have reached a point in life at which my kitchen is basically under control (I’ve even started weeding out unnecessary kitchen things and relocating or offloading them). I like being there, I like working there, and our dishwasher died, so now I just wash the dishes by hand and everything stays sorted.

The downside?

I don’t know. Is it bad to have 24 carrot-pineapple-coconut-raisin muffins hanging around?

About asher

Me in a nutshell: Standard uptight ballet boy. Trapeze junkie. Half-baked choreographer. Budding researcher. Transit cyclist. Terrible homemaker. Neuro-atypical. Fabulous. Married to a very patient man. Bachelor of Science in Psychology (2015). Proto-foodie, but lazy about it. Cat owner ... or, should I say, cat own-ee? ... dog lover. Equestrian.

Posted on 2015/07/26, in adhd, balllet, bipolar, life management and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. The upside of my current mood?

    It’s pretty liberating to realise life isn’t really about constantly being happy and having fun.

    You’ve gotta wonder about the logic of paying good money to see a movie that will make you sad, angry or frightened but immediately searching for relief if you have those feelings for free.

    • Ha! Good point about the movies. Rather explains, I suppose, why I tend to embrace fluffy comedies (Wallace & Gromit forever!) when I’m in this place. I suspect we seek those feelings through the safe medium of the movies for exactly the same reason that we immediately search for relief when we have them for free — we don’t know how to sit with those feelings, how to countenance them without believing that the world is going to immediately fly to pieces (which, to be fair, sometimes it is).

      This is something I’ve been thinking a lot about: like, we have at once a cultural fascination with finding the redeeming (or, perhaps, redemptive) qualities in our darkest hours, but we are also taught to avoid pain at all costs.

      There’s a paradox there I haven’t yet figured out how to express in words. It has something to do with not recognizing, as a culture, that recognizing that there may be something worthwhile in the midst of our suffering, but that the “something worthwhile” in question doesn’t make the suffering itself less painful or less real or less, well, undesirable.

      Suffering still sucks, no matter how many nifty lessons it conveys (or how many bagels or muffins).

      I think this is one of the things that makes so many of the articles about positive experiences with things like bipolar and depression ring false: too often, they’re written in a way that invalidates the experience of suffering (“It was horrible, but this nifty lesson I learned made it all okay!”).

      We’re under a lot of pressure, much of the time, to “make it all okay,” when perhaps “making it all okay” is one of our worst cultural afflictions. We can learn from recent events in South Carolina and across the country; that doesn’t make any of what happened okay, nor does it make the obliviousness (which arises, in part, from “making it okay” by closing our eyes to certain realities in our culture) okay. Pain deferred, like dreams deferred, is liable to explode.

      Um. Kind of went off the rails there. Apologies. Your comments always start me thinking.

      • Jesus asher!
        Sometimes your wisdom just leaves me gobsmacked.
        How old did you say you were?
        Was that years or centuries?

      • Sometimes I think I’m 4 centuries old; sometimes I think I’m 4 years old.

        Then I remember that most 4 year olds, between bouts of relentless desire for Shiny Gewgaws, are pretty wise 🙂

  2. Also, apologies for writing “across the country” as if everyone (including you) lives in the US. My Cultural Imperialism is showing :/

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