I am a machine. I make efficiency an art form, and it's inconceivable that life could be lived any other way. I make the most of every moment of the day, to the point where I can plan to procrastinate. Yes, that's right. Plan to procrastinate. I have to, otherwise the balance is thrown off.
I don't know how I got this way. I just have a knack for seeing the shortest yet most effective means of getting things done, and establishing the systems that make it continuously possible. You could say I'm always prepared. For anything. I should have been a performance engineer.
It comes in really handy at work, as I can juggle a hundred different balls and barely break a sweat. When I say I'm busy, I stretch the definition of the word. My to do list is not average, not even close. Like your own, plus three of your co-workers. It's sometimes hard re-setting your own expectations in managing people who don't have that same level of efficiency (and are not expected to), but otherwise, it's pretty damn awesome.
I'm the same way at home. It takes me two hours to clean 3,500 square feet. My husband? Three days. Again, not his fault, just wired different ways. I even attempt efficiency in putting things away around the house, making little piles to carry with me up and downstairs as I go about other tasks. I will have considered it a wasted trip if I go downstairs to feed the fish and forget to bring my laptop back to the docking station. It's a little sick, I admit it.
So to my point. To all the lovely people out there that keep telling us we aren't going to be able to keep a tight ship around here once my little man arrives, I have two words for you: watch me.
Let's be clear about this. I'm under no delusion that things aren't going to change and that expectations won't have to be re-established. They certainly will. I won't be able to keep playing the same game because there will be more things to care for, namely raising the child. Which becomes a priority over the weekly vacuuming and once I go back to work pretty much everything.
But, I can assure you that what I would consider my bare minimum will still manage to get done, and in comparison to the rest of the world it will seem as if I'm achieving the impossible. I know you want to see me fail, and you want me to eat my words. But it's not going to happen.
Beyond my confidence in my own capacity for get shit doneness, I have living proof. Lots of it, but for the case of two examples, one is of my own blood and the other might as well be. Full-time working Moms with two kids, running a tight ship in the household, while managing to still be beautiful. It's possible. I've seen it with my own two eyes. They might not think they're doing it, and yes there are days when a padded room sounds more fun than coming home, but they are indeed successful and if they can do it I can...especially with just one bambino.
No, my husband isn't going to go hungry. Yes, my house will stay clean, even if I have to outsource it. So let's stop preaching and see what happens.