I am back- Lots going on in the household. Mostly dreaded cleaning. R. is preparing for Shakespeare and with C. in color guard nightly, and both of them working 3-4 nights a week, I am left at home to clean. I hate to clean.
I was not one of those with an immaculate mother. I know it sounds absurd, but I was not taught how to clean meticulously. I don't mean to say that my parents didn't teach me to clean, and live clean, more that I never 'got it' how to manage cleaning, how to schedule it, how to keep up on it.
I am admittedly horrid when it comes to cleaning. Sometimes I secretly wish I were among the OCD can't look at a dirty pot or floor without wanting- needing to clean it. I am more the 'have topushmyselfupmakemyselfwalktowarditdragoutthesuppliesandgetdowntoittype'. Then there is the fact that once I do get my ass up and start, I don't know when to stop. I cant just clean one spot and stop. Once I get the dishes clean, the counters are a mess, I clean them off, then I see a spot on a cupboard door and cant stop until I have scrubbed every door and shelf to a glossy shine, But then the floor looks dirty- even if it is not. and so on- until I look through bleary eyes toward the clock and realize I have been at it for hours and yet, there is a that one more thing.
Dragging my tired ass into bed, waking sore and crampy, I walk into said kitchen and see yogurt containers 3 inches from the trash, cereal bowls left on the table and I don't even want to throw them away because by the time I scrub the trash can, and clean out the cereal bowl cupboard, I will surely be late for work.
And so, In my own ridiculously messed up brain, I am OCD- I do know how to clean, but I don't want to start, because then I wont stop until my entire house is to hospital standards and my loving cleanly, oh so helpful around the house teenagers, are in their 30's.
I want to be one of those people, the ones who can invite guests over without first running around like a cyclone throwing wet towels in the laundry, picking up food dishes from an hour ago. Yes I am the one who takes an hour to answer the ringing doorbell while you hear crahes and banging as if there is some top secret government experiment going on behind closed doors. I am the one who looks at her kids in horror when it rings as I picture the disgust on the face of this anonymous visitor when they lay eyes on the 3 inches of dust on any one of the hundreds of picture frames lining the cluttered living room. My kids know the routine. "Mom will kill us if whoever is at that door sees this house in this state!" and then, 5 minutes after the guests are gone, I walk into the bathroom to see wet towels and makeup so thick you cant tell if you are even still in the bathroom.
I date men who keep up their houses, why cant I? are thier mothers secretly cleaning thier houses for them while they are away at work? probably- but that is not the reason. I'm a pansy ass that's why. It is always more work to get the kids to do it than to do it myself, and honestly our schedules make it difficult. well that - and the fact that they got thier mom's, idontwannaclean gene.
But, tonight, there are some overstuffed closets and a grease encrusted oven vent calling my name. and even if I dont get to bed until wee hours of the morning, I can awaken to the smell of clorine and bleach that should last an hour or so at least?! Right?
Anyone wanna help? Doesn't help that the washer is on the fritz and with 2 teen daughters changing clothes 2-3 times a day and coming home in shake splattered uniforms nightly from the local eating establishment they work at, I need to get that agitator fixed before we all drown in cotton and denim. Oh life could be a little easier on me. Sheesh!
Friday, September 12, 2008
Posted by Not a soccer mom at 9/12/2008
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