We had to have a plumber come to our house today (leaking bath tub + wet ceiling = bad news). That’s bad enough, but you know what’s worse? Having to clean the house for the plumber.
Yep, you read that right. Our house was so embarrassingly dirty that my husband and I spent more time than I’d like to admit making it presentable. For the plumber. Not spic and span, by any means. But clean enough so that we’re reasonably sure the guy won’t call CPS on us.
Which he might have, had he seen it on Saturday.
The kitchen floor was littered with cheerios, puffs, pieces of dog biscuits and other random bits of trashy excellence. So much so that I found myself constantly chasing Tori around, snatching things out of her mouth (I may or may not have let her eat a few stray cheerios along the way).
The table was piled high three feet high with books, magazines, cereal boxes and mail. It had gotten so bad that I was forced to shove things aside to make room for our plates every time we actually wanted to have a meal there.
The family room and living room were buried in toys, laundry and the other flotsam of daily life. In fact, it took me fifteen minutes to even find the couch. And when I finally got out the vacuum? I managed to completely fill up the canister before I even finished a single room (but in my defense, the animals are all shedding).
And don’t even get me started on the state of our bedroom.
I’m sick to death of living this way. Tired of being greeted by a scene from a disaster movie every time I open my front door. I don’t want to live with a laundry pile that’s perpetually in danger of taking over the house. And I certainly don’t want to plan my meals based on what pots are clean.
But I’m not sure how to get a handle on it.
The things my mom always told me? You know, like put stuff away after you use it. And wash the pan you were using before you take another one out. And do a load of laundry every night. Those kind of things?
Are all very good ideas. And seemingly easy to implement. Except they’re not. At least, not for me.
I won’t lie, I’ve always been a slob. But since Tori was born, it’s got a thousand times worse. The dishes don’t get done after dinner because as soon as I’ve eaten, I’m rushing to get her ready for bed. My things don’t get put away because I almost never finish what I start—halfway through, I get pulled away by a Tori roar and never quite make it back.
And as for laundry? Well, by the time I can tackle the clothes pile, all I want to do is collapse on the couch for an hour or two.
My husband and I have resolved (yet again), to do better. To actually clean up after ourselves and keep the mess under control. We’re really going to try. At least until the memories of our latest cleaning frenzy fade. I’m just not sure how.
How do you guys do it? How do you manage to get everything done in the 24 hours we’re allotted each day? Does it ever get easier to pull off the super mom charade?