My house has been immaculate approximately 3 times. All of them were in the final weeks before the kids were born. Intense nesting set in and I cleaned just about everything. I even cleaned the bits you can’t see.
And that is a big deal.
All the rest of the time, it has a status I like to describe as ‘mildly chaotic.’ I mean, the basics are done. You’re not going to get food poisoning if you eat here. But a lot of the time I just have to let stuff go.
Don’t blame me though. I do my best. It’s all the kids’ fault.
Explain to me how you put the washing away with a feral baby on the loose? I can’t even pee in peace! Sure, you can suggest I put Squeak in a sling and get on with it, but there’s one problem with that. Squeak insists that I remain in a perfectly upright position when she is on my back. The moment I bend over to pick something, she lets loose with an almighty screech directly into my ear-hole. It sums up her feelings exactly: a mash-up between, “You’re killing me!” and, “I will kill you!”
Yeah, not listening to that.
So with the washing pile, I am fighting a losing battle. I do have a system, though. It’s just a fucking stupid one.
The clean washing comes out of the dryer and gets dumped in a pile. At this point, I am full of good intentions. I am definitely going to fold them and take them upstairs. In a minute.
I am forced into action when the pile starts to collapse whenever small people walk by. By this point, it’s pretty big. In an uncharacteristic burst of energy, I drag the pile into the living room and sort it into each person’s clothes. Squeak messes with the proceedings slightly. In an attempt to copy me, she grabs clothes of the top of the pile and launches them across the room.
This might look like what I am doing, but it is not.
Then, I take each person’s pile into the correct bedroom. I am totally going to fold them and put them away in the right place. Honestly.
Eventually I can’t take the mess and spend half a day folding and putting away everybody’s clothes.
A sign of how infrequently I do this sorting is that almost every time, I have to sort out the clothes that Squeak has grown out of.
It’s cool, you can judge. I’m not even ashamed.
Then there’s the kitchen floor. I don’t even know what happens there. Well, I do mostly. The kids.
Squeak is in that joyous phase that all babies have to go through. She likes to express that she is finished with a meal by using one arm to sweep the leftovers onto the floor. Every time.
Did you know you have to feed kids, like, 3 times a day?
That’s a lot of rejected food. All under the highchair.
And you have to add Big Girl and Little Girl into the mix. They have come to the (mistaken) assumption that I can’t see the annoying stuff they do. They have absolutely no evidence for this. I catch them at pretty much everything using Mother Radar. They still keep trying.
Their new trick is to take the food they do not like, check to see if I’m watching, and quietly drop it under the table.
In conclusion, I need either a dog, or a dustbuster.
I have neither. I do have one thing though. A baby who is completely terrified of the vacuum cleaner.
I’m talking ‘screaming so hard her lips turn blue’ terrified. So it’s pretty hard to hoover up with her in the room.
I try my best, but that’s a fight I am not winning either. It’s not that big a deal though. I mean, it’s not like anyone licks the floor now, is it?
Don’t even get me started on bed-making. I mean, when are you supposed to fit that in? To those who are saying to the screen, “Straight away, when you get up,” I say ha ha ha!
My kids are G. Rumpy when they get up. I have approximately 30 seconds before Little Girl throws her first tantrum of the day. I would prefer to be downstairs when this happens, so I can hide.
To those who are saying, “Get the kids to help!” Again, funny. I’m not sure you can train pseudo-zombies to make beds. I swear, Big Girl would brush her teeth with the wrong end of the brush if there wasn’t someone there to switch it round for her. They are just. not. awake.
And finally, to those who are saying, “Just do it at some point in the day fgs, you hideous slattern!” I have but one thing to say in reply.
Do you remember the feral baby?
This post is doing a public service for all. For the people who keep this shit straight, you get to feel all smug and stuff. For the people who are just like me, you now know it is not only you.
And just remember, by avoiding doing the stuff up there, I can spend more time doing this thing right here.
So it’s a win for you.