Mr. Sand Man

I read somewhere that around 40 pounds of dirt per year is tracked into your house. I think my son, alone, fills that quota each month just from what dumps out of his shoes some days. And that's just one shoe!  
Clearly he is having a good time during recess. 
And clearly I need to legislate a no-shoes-in-the-house law.

  

The Flood

The other night, my son went swimming...

In the bath tub...

Filled 3"  from the top.

This resulted in a flood of water covering our bathroom floor, soaking the bathmat and my son's clothes, and creeping out into the hallway. My husband and I were of course shocked, and took advantage of the opportunity to teach my son how to clean the bathroom. Funny how certain chores force themselves into your schedule without your planning.

In retrospect, my son calling me from the bathroom asking for his swimming goggles should have been the red flag to go investigate, instead of casually calling for him to hurry up and get out. However, as aggravating as the situation was, it brought back vague memories of my own baths at that age, and deep down I could empathize. When you're a kid, baths are much more fun and much less practical than an adult's.

Mrs. Hughes

Recently, a friend shared the first two seasons of  "Downton Abbey" with me (yes, I was late jumping on the bandwagon, but I usually am). For two weeks, my life was consumed with the series as I played each episode any chance I could get. I was basically MIA.
I found myself fantasizing about what it must be like to have a whole staff of people taking care of the chores. I wondered what it must be like to leave a room and return finding the pillows plumped, the floors cleared, and everything in its place- as if by magic. Perhaps, I even became a little bit resentful as I considered such a life of ease...
So, to help tame the green monster, I decided to name my washing machine "Mrs. Hughes". When I consider that 150 years ago, I would also be the one scrubbing my laundry clean, my appreciation for the maid I keep in the garage increases. I just pile clothes in and say, "Mrs. Hughes, my knickers are in need of cleaning. Please wash them delicately so as not to distress the fabric." And then I walk inside and nibble a little bit of chocolate on my couch until it is time for me to get dressed.... which I have to do by myself, but I get by. Upon returning to the family room I find the pillows on my couch piled into a fort and toys strewn across the floor. The children are hungry and Mrs. Patmore is nowhere to be found. I guess I'll have to make the sandwiches again. Mrs. Hughes is done washing, but failed to rinse the soap completely from the clothes. They stink. This is not the first time this has happened. She will just need to rinse them again and remember that a tablespoon is really all that is needed to get the water mildly sudsy. And for pete's sake, how long does it take to dry a blasted load of laundry? I don't have all day. Lord Grantham's trousers need to be mended, but have sat untouched for weeks. And what on earth is my toothbrush doing on the floor?
It really is hard to find good help.

Sharpie Magic

Last week, my son took a Sharpie to a white undershirt in order to make it a "real" football jersey. He had my complete permission, so when I realized that that the marker had bled through onto my wood dining table, I could only be mad at myself. I quickly did an online search and tried the first tip I found to clean Sharpie ink from wood. The solution seemed so ridiculous, I wouldn't have tried it had I not been desperate.
I am here to testify that ordinary toothpaste rubbed onto the marker stain with a damp cloth does indeed magically erase the marks from your dining room table. It was so miraculous, I had to pass it on.

Even so, I have relearned the need to respect the power of the Sharpie.

Ponderings During the World Series

It took me about 23 years of life on this earth to buy a pair of white pants. Until then- while I was often tempted to buy them- I could hear them taunting me from their clothing racks, "Buy me, I dare you. I can't wait for you to stain me within the first 10 minutes of wearing me! What will it be first? Spaghetti sauce? Ink? Dirt? Bwahahaha!"
Contrast that with...
Major League baseball teams, who have chosen white as their pant color of choice for playing a game that involves diving around in grass and clay.

Obviously, they don't clean their own uniforms.

Under Where?

The below picture is evidence of why it might be a good idea to blowdry your hair in the the children's/guest bathroom every now and then:

It's amazing the things you miss when you focus below eye level.

Bachelor for a Night

The other night, my husband had to work so I had a self-proclaimed night off. With no husband to impress, we had pancakes and scrambled eggs for dinner (not that that's ever stopped me before). The garbage can was full, so empty food boxes took up residence on my counter. The dishes? I didn't touch the clean dishes in our dishwasher, and the dirty dishes stacked up in our sink. After my baby's bath, I didn't bother to drain or put her tub away. After I got the kids in bed, I indulged in a little T.V. while I worked on a sewing project.

And then I cleaned it all up before I went to bed...

Official Backup

For those who think that women within the church are degraded and subservient, I just don't get where they are coming from. The Brethren have got our back:

"Holders of the priesthood, in turn, must accommodate themselves to the needs and responsibilities of the wife and mother. Her physical and emotional and intellectual and cultural well-being and her spiritual development must stand first among his priesthood duties.
"There is no task, however menial, connected with the care of babies, the nurturing of children, or with the maintenance of the home that is not his equal obligation. The tasks which come with parenthood, which many consider to be below other tasks, are simply above them."
-Elder Boyd K. Packer

My "Soap" Opera

In 2006, our apartment lost power for four days- twice. Once, during extremely hot weather, and once during extremely cold weather. Minutes after we lost power, my impulse was to clean. The desire to vacuum, do laundry, and clean has never been stronger. Of course, I was frustrated to find that most of the cleaning I wanted to do required electricity. After the second power outage, when the weather woman forecasted a strong front coming our way... I vacuumed and did laundry to prepare. (No, I don't know how that helps in an emergency).

When I had my baby girl, and I was on a rigid feeding schedule that allowed little sleep, my desire to vacuum, do laundry, and clean has never been stronger. Of course, I tried to rest like I knew I should, when I had the time, but the tumult drove me crazy. I looked forward to having the free time to keep the house in order.

Currently, I am not subject to any natural disasters, my baby sleeps through the night and takes two good naps during the day. My desire to clean seems to be MIA. What's the deal?!

It seems I want to clean the most when it is least obtainable. Will Circumstance and Wanting-To-Clean ever be united in sparkly bliss?
To be continued...

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This...

Yesterday, instead of taking a shower I decided to mop my bathroom floor. Mopping one's bathroom floor becomes top priority once the toilet has overflowed and water is creeping out through the door (and can I just say that watching the water in your toilet bowl rise, and rise, and rise to the edge is the most horrifying thing ever?). While this alone was fun, what made it even more fun was when I realized that my sweet baby had prematurely awaken from her nap, and was screaming her head off. The cherry on top was that my son was home sick from school, and my husband was on call and would not be home until the next morning.

If my mama had told me about yesterday, I would have found a hole to crawl into and never come out.

Freezer Jam

A month or so ago, Better Homes and Gardens listed tips on how to clean the air in your home. My favorite tip was the advice they gave to remove dust mites from your child's room. For stuffed animals that can not be laundered, they suggest merely freezing the animals once a week for a few hours. In that case, I think I need to buy a deep freeze.

Why Can't My House Clean Itself?

Right now, my biggest priority is to get my house in order before the baby comes. I am now being forced to deal with things I have ignored/accumulated since we moved. As storage space is at a premium in our home, this involves making decisions about throwing things away... not my strength.

Sitting and staring at the clutter hasn't seemed to get the job done. My next strategy is to wait for some magic fairies to appear and do the work for me.


Wish me luck!!

X-Ray Vision

When I was a child, I was amazed by my mom's super-ability to find something I had been searching for the moment she walked in a room. It seemed to me, she had x-ray vision. There was nothing she couldn't find.

Now that I am a mother myself, I now understand the secret to her power and I am happy to amaze my son with the same ability. The secret? A child who considers "looking" for a belonging to be an act of taking a step into one room, looking in one spot, leaving the room without another sideways glance, and considering the article lost forever.

Frog or Toad?

When I was little, "Frog and Toad are Friends" by Arnold Lobel was a classic book for our family. Not only did I find their adventures amusing, but I enjoyed the contrast between the optimistic Frog and his pessimistic Toad friend. I found comfort in the fact that I was nothing like that grumpy, unmotivated Toad.
And then I recently read "Tomorrow" in "Days with Frog and Toad". In this story, Toad has an epiphany that if he does his work today, he'll have more time tomorrow to do what he wants (i.e. sleep).

And then I realized I have more in common with Toad that I thought.

The Grass is Always Cleaner on the Other Side.

I think it is common knowledge that being the primary housekeeper of a home with children can be an exercise in frustration. I have spoken with many mothers who all experience the same feeling: that their trail of cleaning is followed immediately by a tornado of destruction, and that often it seems like the house looks the same, despite their best efforts. As a result, it's easy to loose the motivation to do it. I have often thought to myself how different our house would look, if everything stayed where I put it. It would look like a page out of a magazine.
And then one day I was talking with a friend who lives alone. She honestly stated that she feels no motivation to clean, as there is no one there to impress except herself, and that in a home with more people, you are forced to put things away in order to keep them from being misplaced by another. Her reason for not cleaning was the exact opposite of mine!

And then I realized.... there will always be an excuse not to clean, no matter what my circumstances. I can't blame others anymore.

I can't handle the truth!

Snails Gone Wrong

** WARNING: DO NOT READ, IF YOU ARE EATING!**

Some time ago, my son received a small "ecosystem" aquarium for his birthday that contained 2 frogs, a bamboo plant (for oxygen), and a small snail (for cleaning). Soon after receiving this gift, it became evident that the snail was MIA. We had never actually seen the snail, so we figured it was a dud. The store replaced it no problem. After 2 days on the job, the new snail was MIA. It became clear to us that the frogs were eating the janitors.

So, our frogs lived without a snail for some time until the walls of the tank became murky with algae. A few days ago I decided it was time to get another snail. My son and I went to a pet store and picked out a snail large enough to resist the attacks of the frogs. He quickly made himself at home and I was pleased to see him moving around taking care of business. My only problem with him, was that he kind of grossed me out. In the morning I had to consciously not look at him, or I instantly lost my appetite (a new trendy diet plan, perhaps?).

(You can see one of the black frogs on the left)

This morning, was a morning not to be forgotten. Not only was the nasty snail residing in the tank, but a present had been left on the lid. Eggs (dry heave). Horrified and disgusted, I immediately ran screaming through our house (I apparently still need work), and remained under the covers of our bed for a few minutes, while I came to terms with the fact that our snail (a she... or a he-she... I'm not sure about snails) had not only made itself at home, but had spent all night laying eggs! This was unacceptable behavior.

Needless to say, my wonderful husband is cleaning the tank today, and the snail will again be MIA when it's all over.

Legacy

I have an ancestor whose wife died in childbirth. Years later, in discussing the subject in a letter to his estranged daughter (who survived the delivery but was later adopted) he expressed, "The anguish of soul that I felt at this time you may try to imagine. I was bereft of a tender companion, a feeling mother, a good housekeeper and one that I love and yet love the memory of her."

I've always thought she must have kept an immaculate house, for her housekeeping to be missed so dearly by her husband. Personally, I've always found this sentiment a tad bit unromantic. I mean.... in my passing, I wouldn't really want my housekeeping to be a major source of my husband's grief.

Luckily, I have the power to keep that from happening.
Bwah-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaaaaaaa....

(I'm just kidding, mom)

A Hole in My Heart

Why am I grieving over the departure of a 6 year old Target entertainment center that has been sitting in our garage for months (intiating near curses from my husband and myself because of its inconvenience), that I posted on craigslist, and prayed for someone to buy? I almost ran after the truck in the rain crying, but my husband told me I could buy a new shirt.

Dejunking is a hard process for me. Anyone have any good coping methods?

Darn Cat.

We have declared war on our neighbor's cat- and are currently losing. For quite some time, we have noticed a gross smell around our front shrubs as you approach our front door. We are about 90% sure this smell is a result of our neighbor's cat using our front shrubs as a litter box. This smell is intensified on particularly sunny or wet days, and as my brother observed, it is the first and last impression our guests get when visiting- which is exactly how we want folks remembering their time with us.
We've tried "shake away" (a powder form of coyote urine) to deter the cat, but it doesn't seem to be working. My husband refuses to mark the territory himself, but IS keen on the idea of putting spikes and land mines around our shrubs. I've researched other methods- citrus rinds, laying chicken wire on the ground, ammonia, super soakers, cayenne powder- and was wondering if any of you have experience in this area and if any of these actually work. Please help me!

The Effect of Procrastination on Housework

Question:
Why do I have to do housework?

Hypothesis:
If I ignore housework, it will go away.

Experiment:
Ignore laundry for a week.

Analysis:
Laundry increased in numbers until members of the household had nothing to wear, resulting in alternating between two outfits or wearing items that were outgrown. When laundry was finally cleaned, it created a huge task.

Conclusion:
Ignoring housework does not make it go away.