Or at least that’s my cop-out cry when the dirt and clutter is screaming at me from every corner of the house.
We have family coming to stay with us for the week of Thanksgiving. My sweet, sweet, sister-in-law is coming with her hubby and wonderful children. We look forward to this visit every year and when it was in jeopardy of not happening this year, I went into a tail-spin of panic. BUT things got worked out, God worked marvelously and we are all looking forward to the fun their visit always brings.
But along with a visit from anyone, comes the mad dash of extra cleaning that needs to be done the week before. Some might argue (NEVER me of course, I just know someone, somewhere might pick this bone) that why bother doing extra cleaning when you have a van load of kids coming to visit and that the all the extra foot traffic will only get your house MORE dirty? Well, in this case, my house is just plain, long overdue for a thorough cleaning and for anyone to see it in it’s current state, even my sweet sis-in-law, is downright embarrasing.
Now don’t get me wrong. I do my best to keep a clean house… and a tidy one for the most part. The kids all have daily chores to help out (even the 3-year-old) and we pick up and sweep a few times every day. Yes, I said A FEW TIMES. And yes, it gets very old, very quickly. But alas, it must be done at least until someone tells us that wading through filth and clutter up to our knees on a constant basis is actually GOOD for our health. Or until we win the lottery and I can pay for a full-time maid (heck, I’d take a part-time one!). Or until I locate the ever evasive Cleaning Fairy and chain her to the inside of my house. I don’t know whose house she visits but it sure ain’t mine! I dream about her sometimes…. usually on the nights leading up to a big cleaning project, like today. Maybe I hope it’s like Kevin Costner’s baseball movie, “If I dream it, she will come”.
Oh wait. I don’t think that’s what Kevin hears the whispery voice call to him while he’s out daydreaming in the corn field. Dang it!
Anyway. I decided that for this week, we (meaning the kids and I. Me giving 762% and the kids giving 28%) will tackle one room each day and just clean the beejeezeses out of it. In case you didn’t realize it, today is Monday. That means that today was our first room.
We picked the boy’s room. For no particular reason, except for the fact that three handsome, dirty, sweet, smelly, loving but incredibly gross boys call it their very own. And if we didn’t tackle it first, it might not ever be done in time. Of course there was the usual, cleaning baseboards and windowsills, washing not only the sheets but also the comforters and mattress pads, sorting through toys, tossing broken ones and making a pile of unused ones for the next garage sale and dusting blinds
Can I just take a moment and say that dusting is my least favorite job to do? And within that dusting category, blinds rate the absolute worst thing to have to do? That’s saying it’s the bottom of the very bottom for me. I’d rather let the boys attempt to cut my hair.
This is a picture from my nightmares. No one should have to dust after the age of 25 75. I’m pretty sure my eyes will be too bad to even see the dust by then, so who cares? But in my nightmares, I’m still dusting….
On top of such delightful tasks, we also rearranged the beds and toys a bit (we’re always fighting for more room) and also cleaned out the unused extras from the top of the closet and either tossed them or put them in the garage sale pile. I also had the joy of scrubbing walls. Do you know boys’ feet are always dirty? They sure seem to be. My boys shower every night (helps keep the beds clean, a pet peeve of mine. Dirty, crummy sheets that is. Ewww, gag! I just grossed myself out typing that! Apparently I can’t write it without imagining it) and I know they put their feet on the wall sometimes while they are in bed – after showering. So why are the light blue walls covered with a nasty dark film of dirt in the areas above the beds? How is that possible exactly?
Well, it was there. And I had to scrub it. But there were worse things to scrub off. Stuff that required the total extent of my elbow grease. It’s too gross to even write down but it might possibly rhyme with “oogers” and start with a “b”. Did you know it turns into cement immediately when it comes in contact with a wall? It does. Supposedly the guilty persons are no longer in the throes of this habit. So I’ve given them strict instructions that now that the wall is clean, ANYTHING that shows up on the wall will be henceforth proclaimed as NEW and therefore punishable. And let me tell you, I’m still dreaming up the consequence. It sure ain’t gonna be fun and it sure ain’t gonna be pretty.
It’s lunch/nap time now and I’m exhausted. I can’t put the kids down for their quiet time/nap time because the sheets and blankets are still in the washer and dryer (and after taking a real close gander at the walls before cleaning, I’m not letting those feet near a mattress that doesn’t have protection). My allergies are roaring (WHY didn’t I think to take a Claritin before I started?! WHY??!!) and I’ve tweaked my back. Apparently that’s what happens when you use up every ounce of elbow grease on the walls…
And that’s why I still beg and plead that house cleaning might indeed, one day, be the death of me. Now I’m off to try and dream the Cleaning Fairy to my house before I have to tackle the next room tomorrow.
** I would like to point out. The kids did a great job helping. I had help vacuuming and dusting and scrubbing walls. And of course, they were the ones who had to dig through toys and sort them out. It’s just that sometimes, their elbow grease just isn’t enough. But we’re working on it and their elbow muscles are all in training. **
** not my picture here but goodness gracious, isn’t she adorable?!!