I'm a perfectionist.
Everything has a place. When something is put away where it doesn't belong, I meet the offending object with a sigh and must place it where it belongs immediately. I don't like people putting away my dishes and silverware, or the kids' toys, because I know EXACTLY where everything belongs and they don't.
Perfectionism makes delegating hard. I have a hard time asking D to put away the kids' clothes for me, because I know I'll find Bebe's shirts in her pants drawers, her pajamas in her underwear drawer, and her dresses folded instead of hung. I don't ask him to stuff Dois's cloth diapers for daycare because he won't line up the inserts just so and they'll leak. I even have a hard time asking Bebe to pick out her clothes because if they don't match, it drives me bonkers. (Or when she decides to wear something like a winter coat on an 80-degree day.)
Tonight within 50 minutes, our living room went from completely clean to this:
Doesn't exactly look like the home of a perfectionist, does it?
Motherhood will do funny things to you...