Now this isn’t going to be a list of actual house cleaning tips…but maybe you already guessed that.
Now I am not one to say that my house is anywhere near magazine looking. Martha Stewart, I am not. Martha Stewart would laugh at me and then we could sit back and share prison stories while she gave me some stock market tips. **just roll with it**
There’s no “Homes And Gardens” knocking on my door.
Actually there’s no one knocking on my door…maybe because we have that bright red “NO SOLICITING” sign right in plain view. Anyway…
And how about you men that stay home? Are you all Mr. Clean’s? Do you tread around the house with those magical white sponges, that I swear must have mother’s spit in them because they work so damn good.
I have finally learned to live by the motto that since I am the one who cleans, I will decide when and what gets cleaned.
Now our house isn’t remotely close to an episode of Hoarders either. There isn’t any bags of poo or 500 mice scurrying around inside our walls that we refer to as pets. Yes I am aware that Hoarding is a disease and that most people don’t want to truly be that way but I am just making a point here. (for all those easily offended)
I will tell you this though. When I do clean something, I spend hours doing it. The other night, AFTER I put the kids to bed, I spent 3 hours in my very own kitchen scrubbing and disinfecting everything that had a surface. And had it not been so late and I hadn’t had one too many whiskey on the rocks (it was Friday night people…pathetic…I know), I probably would have started organizing the 19 cabinet spaces our kitchen contains. No, I don’t do meth, alcohol is like an energy drink for me.
And yes I do like to get a little drunksnockeredinebriated buzzed and then go on outrageous cleaning marathons, sometimes. It makes it so less tedious. Don’t judge me.
I have been cleaning for over 30 years…personally I am quite sick of doing it. And with 4 kids, a dog, and my husband…the struggle. is. real. And yes they all have chores of their own to do, with the exception of my husband, but because I am so picky, I go around and still clean after they have cleaned. My OCD has come a long way since having kids though. When I was single and worked an obscene amount of hours…I had a maid. And even after she would come, and even though the house was clean, my OCD would kick in and I would go and get the stuff that she missed. Stuff that a normal person, without OCD, would have never noticed.
Any of my friends that knew me before I had kids, can speak for me that my house was “I’m hiding DNA evidence” clean.
Now days…whatever you do…don’t lift the couch cushions.
Don’t move the refrigerator or the washer and dryer for that matter.
Stay away from most drawers and cabinets in the utility room without signing an injury waiver first.
See the thing about house cleaning for me, is that it takes me so damn long to do one area of my house that it then takes me a day or two to recover before I get to another section. Therefore, my house is never all clean in one day. Actually there are just other things that I would truly rather be doing.
Here is the best house cleaning tip of all…WHEN IT’S DONE!
As I was hanging up my clothes today I started to think to myself that my wardrobe is just not as cute as it used to be. Yes I have managed to hang onto some of the cute stuff but rarely do I find myself wearing it. My closet has become full of what I would call a housewife’s wardrobe.
The majority of my laundry consists of sweats (Old Navy sweats are my favorite), t-shirts that are dated back to the pregnancy with my first child…not to mention they look even older after being washed and warn what seems like a gazillion times, and sweatshirts…the ones that I throw upon myself to rush to the grocery store. Oh and lets not forget my lovely go to yoga pants…comfy doesn’t get any comfier then a washed and warn pair of yoga pants. Unfortunately they have never seen the light of day of a yoga class.
I have also found a love for cameos. Nothing fancy, Kirkland brand from Costco. But I wear them under EVERYTHING. Sometimes I feel like it’s just one step closer to wearing “spanx”. Although I just don’t see how something squeezing every ounce of cellulite could be anywhere near comfort. And where does all the fat go? And what happens when you take it off? Isn’t that kind of like false advertisement? Like the wonder bra and wonder jeans, where one wonders what happened when they are removed. Of course that only applies to people who are dating, I suppose. As “married with children” women we have had everything on display already.
Now mind you I have come a long way in motherhood with my wardrobe. Long gone are the days that I would get dolled up to leave the house and inevitably one of the babies would spit up and I didn’t have time to change. Nothing like sitting somewhere smelling like soured breast milk.
I complain to my husband about my wardrobe and of course he tells me to go out and buy some new clothes. But for what? I don’t go anywhere that requires anything more then my current “mommy wear”. And for our occasional date nights I have a few pairs of jeans and “nice” tshirts for those outings. I mean seriously am I going to clean the house and attend to the children in fancy clothes? I am sure there are mothers that do so but as for me I have never been much of a fashionista so why start now? I would rather spend my money on something more rational…like wine. **smiles**
We live in a small town…you know the kind where some people can’t even get out of their pajama bottoms to go to the grocery store. I am quite certain our local Wal-Mart is on a YouTube video somewhere.
I have some really cute pajama pants but I am not about to wear them out in public…unless of course I don’t need to get out of the car…then it’s acceptable. I say this because once my kids start school I know that I am going to be one of those mom’s dropping my kids off with my pajamas and slippers on. I am NOT a morning person what so ever and the fact that I will have 3 of them to get ready at the crack of dawn, that just doesn’t leave time for me to worry about what I look like.
UPDATE: I go to the gym after dropping off the kids these days so I am usually dressed the part…but on Fridays my littlest one doesn’t go to preschool so therefore the other two are dropped off with my pajamas on. Don’t judge. I don’t have to get out of the car.
I have also started hating to wear bras…mind you I will not go out in public without one on but as soon as I get home it’s the first thing to come off. My “girls” don’t like to be all bunched up in a wad. I mean could you imagine if men had penis bras? Or had to go everywhere wearing a jock strap? We would never hear the end of how uncomfortable that was. Well I feel the same way about my boulder holder. Therefore when I am home, it is off. **feels sorry for the random people who come to the door**
Truth is I am a stay at home mom/housewife and I enjoy dressing the part. Let’s face it…who wouldn’t like to be able to go into work everyday with messy hair and comfy clothes? My kids don’t care what I look like. All they care about is that mommy is here to take care of their every need. The only thing they notice is when I have morning breath and they tell me to brush my teeth. My son tells me I am beautiful even when I look like a train wreck. And lucky for me my husband likes the “natural” me. Meaning a little eyeliner and mascara and although I have long hair it is usually up…and I am ok with it. I am more comfortable with me now than I was in my younger years. So to all you moms out there who wonder if your wardrobe has gotten a bit on the frumpy side just remember that as long as your kids are happy who cares if your shirt has a hole in it?
The “not so fashionista”,
UPDATE: I wrote this piece when I first started my blog. I have since purchased some new clothes and actually because this year I made a decision that I was going to promise to myself to get in shape I will be purchasing some more clothes. Something about losing weight and feeling healthy on the inside makes you want to look better on the outside. But I still love my pajama days…which is usually only Sundays these days.
Yep, I am not afraid to admit it…I am a housewife failure.
When I was younger and people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up the answer was NEVER “a housewife”. I don’t even ever recall saying I wanted to be a mother. I was never very “kid oriented”. More like kid irritated.
But here I am at the ripe old age of 40 something *coughs* and that’s my exact title HOUSEWIFE. I prefer the title of Corporate Executive Officer Of Souzaville … it just sounds better rolling off my tongue. But let’s face it … that would look a little funny printed on a resume.
Housewife in definition is:
a married woman whose main occupation is caring for her family, managing household affairs, and doing housework.
The problem is I am not very good at the housewife thing. Sure I clean and tidy up from *time to time.
*Translation: 10 minutes before someone is coming over.
I have a laundry pile that my children could play hide and seek in. Hell maybe I will try hiding in the damn pile. Laundry baskets in this house are used for a variation of other things. My children love to dump theirs out and then use them to build forts, use as night stands, or just simply leave lying in the middle of the floor…but never are there dirty clothes inside of them. And up until last year I didn’t even own an iron. What’s an iron for? To make grilled cheese right?
Now in my defense I do have 4 children who are just absolute slobs. I have no idea where they inherited this gene from *coughs again while bubble of husband presents itself over her head* because before they came along you could eat off any floor in my house. I was a clean FREAK!
But after having them I eventually realized that something had to give or I was going to drive myself insane trying to keep up with the term, spotless. The word spotless is no longer a word in my vocabulary. I am surprised I even remember how to spell it.
I mean let’s face it…kids are assigned chores so that we “housewives” don’t have so much housework to do right? I mean they have to learn to earn their keep around here at some point in time. I think the age of 2 isn’t asking too much right?
As for caring for my family, of course I care for them. I care that my boys grow up to be respected men in their community and not to knock up every insecure girl that crosses their path. I care that my girls grow up not to be those insecure girls. And I care that my husband worships me until the day he lies on his death bed…probably claiming that I put him there.
That brings me to the WIFE part of housewife. Yeah I am not very good at that. I don’t do my husband’s laundry but let me explain why. I used to. But then he started complaining about how he wanted his clothes organized a certain way in his closet. Color coordinated. I was like NOPE. Time for you to DIY, my dear husband.
This also sometimes refers to him wanting sex.
I also stopped making his lunch for this same reason. I would pack it…he would complain how it was packed, unpack and repack it, and so I live by the motto that if you don’t like the way someone is doing something, then do it your damn self.
How about a good husband…
Now if my husband is reading this he would be nodding to himself about being every. one. of. these. I will give him 7 out of 9. 😂😳 He can guess the 7.
I am fine with his penis size.
As for managing the household affairs well I manage everything.
I manage to keep the kids alive.
I manage not to burn the house down when I cook.
I manage to get a majority of the housework done within the month.
I manage not to stab my husband when he really pisses me off.
I manage to keep my sanity. *looks around in doubt*
I manage to “occasionally ” find time to make sure my husband doesn’t leave the house hungry or horny. *again looks around in a bit of doubt*
I manage to laugh out loud sometimes when no one is watching.
I manage to love myself even when I don’t feel like it sometimes.
And last but not least I manage to embrace this wonderful life I have created for myself regardless of how much I feel like a failure from time to time.
And with that note…I think I will pour myself a tasty glass of poison, stumble over the pile of laundry, ignore the dust, the dozen or so toys strung from one end of the house to the other, the dirty dishes in the sink, carefully dodge the legos in the carpet, and possibly watch some Netflix or dance in my underwear like no one is watching…well except the 3 small children who are the only ones home right now.
No One’s Perfect,
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We left off in the 50’s era with my last post. I am looking forward to the next chapter of history of housewives. It’s getting closer to the era I grew up in.
1960’s ~ This is an era for women that the entire revolution of the “The American Woman” term is redefined. More woman are entering the workforce only to be sexually harassed and about a 60% pay income of that of their male companions. Think I would have just rather stayed home and been a housewife quite honestly.
This is also the decade that birth control comes into play. I would have to guess because most 60’s housewives were working part-time but still expected to take care of the kids and home. Most husbands of this era were having affairs carried out on their said “business trips’ a stereotype that still lingers on today.
The housewife of the 1960’s worked hard and yet this was the decade that good old Uncle Sam said “house work” wasn’t considered a profession to claim head of household. Here we are in 2015 and there still isn’t a little box that says “Keeping The Fucking Fabulous House In Check” And in the 60’s they were still expected to do housework while in a dress and heels and their hair done.
1970’s ~ The era of woman activists. From everything to the Equal Rights Amendment being approved into the constitution to abortion rights. Women began to construct their own feminist organizations and groups. These included businesses such as art galleries, bookstores and daycare. They began to speak out about the rights of their bodies and how no one else should have a say as to what they do with it. Ford came into play as the president and so did the first lady in a 1976 August addition of Good Housekeeping stating:
“We have to take the ‘just’ out of ‘just a housewife’ and show our pride in having made the home and family our life’s work,” she said. “A woman who is satisfied with her life at home is just as liberated as a woman with a career outside the home.”
She wanted to change the word housewife to homemaker for staying home and taking care of the family was something to take pride in. And that society should respect that choice.
There were also shows like “The Brady Bunch” and “8 Is Enough” coming into circuit displaying blended families and no longer was it all about the “nuclear” family anymore. “The Brady Bunch” even having a maid and the mother working outside of the home…sometimes even returning later than the husband.
1980’s ~ Now this is my decade. Not as a housewife of course but the era of my precious youth and discovering my inner wild child.
The average home cost a little over $68,000 and by the end of the era almost doubled. The average household income was $20,000 and by end of the era $27,000. A gallon of gas was right around $1.00 and you could buy a brand new really nice car for $10,000. And some of those cars are still on the road today because things were built to last. Not like all this cheap, full of electronic garbo, that they manufacture today.
Housewives of the 1980’s were considered the retro housewives. Gone were the days of always wearing a dress and heels when cleaning the house to now bringing into play the “designer jean” costing around $80 a pair and this was the 80’s. When minimum wage was $2.85 an hour when I started in the working field. Needless to say I didn’t have a lot of expensive designer jeans once I had to start buying my own.
In the 80’s 3 out of 5 families had both parents working just to keep up a standard of living. This was also an era that women began to want to work rather than get married. Being in the work force was now plenty acceptable and pretty much expected. They began to realize that they could work and provide for themselves and their children and didn’t have to stay in unhappy marriages.
Studies showing that those who remained married, worked outside the home, and still managed to take care of “inside the home” were actually putting forth more labor than that of their husbands. I wonder if this is where the average number of “blow-jobs sexual commitments” declines. Because who wants to work full-time, come home and do housework, cook, and take care of the kids and then find the energy to please our husband?
1990’s ~ Most will say this was the best decade ever. America was prospering under the Clinton administration. The economy was rising at a rate of 4% a year. The job market was great at over 1.5 million available.
As for the housewives of the 1990s the word “feminism” started to come into play and it wasn’t pretty. Newspapers and magazines blamed everything from the rising rates of divorce to even rape all on that of feminism. The average housewife being fed up with having to constantly take care of the family. No longer was it picture perfect housewife holding a pie or cleaning gadget but rather the new face of “Roseanne Barr“. Tired from working all day and now expected to take care of the family. All while muttering words of frustration and sarcasm.
On the opposite spectrum was “Peg Bundy” also known as “the lazy housewife”. Doesn’t work, doesn’t cook or clean, and is horrible at taking care of the children. Her main focus being that of herself while she spends her husband’s hard earned money and expecting him to be ok with that. Smoking cigarettes in the house and trying not to set her Aqua Net hair-do on fire. Or the entire house with a cake she left in the oven.
2000 to current ~ It’s all about choices now. In most marriages a choice is made whether the mother or in some cases father will stay home with the children. Some of this is due to the rising costs of childcare and that the majority of one income would go towards said childcare. These days it is ok to be either a woman at home or a woman in the corporate world. But there are still so many stereotypes against the stay at home mother/ housewife/ homemaker. I have news for all the ones who have never been a stay at home parent…it’s not easy. It’s the hardest job I have ever had and I have worked a lot of jobs.
Head to “Blogs I Follow” in the Reader. Scroll down to the third post in the list. Take the third sentence in the post, and work it into your own.
Ironically when I followed the instructions…the blog I landed on “SOMETIMES“…was also blogging about this challenge. The third sentence…”I hope he won’t mind”
I wonder if he will notice the few pounds I have shed and how hard I have been working to regain part of my “pre-baby” body. Does he see that I have been shedding my daily “SAHM” attire, which usually consists of a pair of sweats, with a half dozen holes in them and a shirt that still has spit up stains from nursing my babies so many moons ago? Instead, I have replaced them with the new pairs of jeans that he insisted I buy for myself and the new tops that I purchased on clearance because the price of the jeans almost gave me a stroke.
Has he noticed that I have been trying harder at keeping the house a bit more tidy and not letting the kids just string everything they own from one end of the house to the other? I too like a clean house…it calms my OCD restless mind.
Is my cooking improving? Are all those hours spent watching the Food Network and skimming through Pinterest paying off? I bet he would notice if I made something with Mayonnaise. He hates that stuff. I keep threatening that I am going to rest his ashes in a bulk sized container of it.
Wonder if he notices that my hair is in an imperative state and a patch of new gray hair has appeared, I swear, overnight on the China Express. Or how about the toe nail polish on my feet that is so grown out it looks like a french manicure. And don’t let me even get started on my fingernails that do nothing but peel and chip since moving to the northern hemisphere of Nevada. All of this is so ironic since I spent 20+ years working in the beauty industry.
Will he notice another laugh line appearing due to the fact that I have been laughing a lot more lately? Or maybe because I am going to be another year older in a couple days. We all know that on our birthday we wake up with some sort of random justification that “old age” is setting in. **wink wink**
Has he noticed that I stopped playing “Farmville2”? Well not completely stopped but surely quit the slight obsession I had with it.
Occasionally all of these thoughts run through my head about my husband. I am a real person with real emotions and concerns about how I am perceived in the eyes of my other half. It’s what makes me a wife. His wife. It’s not a question of love, that I know…just a confirmation that I am doing right by him and that in a conversation amongst his friends he would be proud to call me “his wife“.
It’s Sunday. Long gone are the days of sleeping until noon while battling a hangover that’s wanting to take over my entire body and smelling like whatever establishment I occupied until the wee hours of the morning of the night before. Waking up in a type of fog that not even coffee or a dose of 5 hr energy could lift. My mouth tasting like I had eaten a dead possum laying in the middle of the road on the way home. And continuing my day curled up on the couch with pillow and blanket in close proximity all while watching a marathon of “Lifetime” movies. Yes this was me…before motherhood…before my husband…now my Sunday’s are much more practical and meaningful….hahaha who am I kidding…Sundays are “pajama” days! It’s funny that this part of the writing challenge would fall on the least busy day of the week for me.
On this particular Sunday…
7:40am…heard hubby come home from working all night. Mumbled something along the lines of ‘hi…how was your night?”. Noticed Little Z was awake and ready for her breakfast. (I love when only one at a time wakes up…makes the chaos much more controllable…especially while I am trying to get my first dose of caffeine digested.) Made her breakfast and turned on her choice of cartoon.
8:00am…Snuck into the office for my morning “internet” routine. I love the internet first thing in the morning. Some people like reading a paper…I like looking through the world wide web for whatever tickles my fancy awakens my mind.
8:20am…I hear the tapping of two more toddlers feet shuffling along the wooden floor. They are rubbing their eyes and muttering “I want something to eat mommy”. You should see Little M’s hair first thing in the morning ….looks like she wrestled with a fuzzy blanket full of balloons and lost.
Got their breakfast served and positioned them at the table while they quietly watched whatever cartoon was presenting itself on the TV. Yes I know that “society” says I shouldn’t let my kids watch tv while sitting at the table eating but quite frankly I don’t care what “society” says because they aren’t raising my 3 toddlers. I am. **thought for a whole other blog post**
8:45am…They all finish up with breakfast and wander into the living room, with “security” blankets in tow and find their comfortable places on the couch. Mind you…I have had to tell them to shhhh and be quiet, because daddy is sleeping, about half a dozen times already. I have no clue how he sleeps through 5 kids on a Sunday.
9:00am…Still surfing the internet
9:20am…gather up Little B Man’s dirty clothes that didn’t quite make it into the hamper…”supermom on caffeine” is now starting to present herself and has started her first load of laundry for the day. (I would like to know how the “Duggars” mom stays on top of her “19 Kids And Counting“‘s laundry pile…I know she has several washers and dryers but it’s still a lot of dirty clothes to tackle.) Putting them in the washer and dryer is the easy part…folding and putting away takes lots of patience and effort…especially if you are trying to be “super laundry girl” who doesn’t leave them in a heap on top of the dryer or constantly restarting the “steam and fluff” setting to avoid having to fold them while still getting the wrinkles out.
11:15am…In two hours I have shushed the kids at least a dozen more times. I have made a snack consisting of 3 different kinds of fruits. (That’s the problem with them all having minds of their own now…they all 3 always want something different…last night we had to draw straws to see who got to pick the “time to settle down” flick of the the evening)
12:00pm…Lunchtime for the littles consisting of BBQ pulled pork sandwiches from a few nights ago. By this time of day I am starting to get a little “toddler” crazy. They are all fully awake and bouncing off the walls and I swear it’s worse when my husband is on night shift and trying to sleep. It’s like their little radars are beeping to remind them to be loud and obnoxious and see how many times mommy can lose her shit!
12:30pm…GO THE FUCK OUTSIDE!
12:31pm…I sit down at the computer to try and finish a thought only to be interrupted by the constant dinging of the dryer which has gone off not once, not twice, but THREE times now to remind me that it’s time to fold the clothes! Someone in this house keeps turning on the “wrinkle guard” option so instead of the dryer just turning of it starts back up every couple minutes until someone tends to the items inside. It’s a brilliant option developed by dryer manufacturers but for me it’s just a constant reminder that my laziness is wasting electricity.
2:30pm…hubby is awake now and making a mess in the kitchen before he gets ready for work. I think I might have actually got a couple blinks of a nap in there while the kids were “momentarily” behaving themselves. Baby Z also dozed off even if it was for only 20 minutes at best. Keeps the “crabbies” at bay. Now starts the “afternoon” chaos. Right now I am watching my husband as he writes on the egg container “HARDBOILED” ….twice….with a sharpie…as I hover over him making sure that the sharpie doesn’t get misplaced and then gets into the hands of my 3 year old toddler…the same toddler who has decorated the walls, doors, beds, and just about anything else with a surface…in which I have scrubbed off on more then one occasion. (By the way…the “washable/wipeable” crayons really do just that…they are every mother, with a decorative toddler’s, dream coloring utensils.)
2:50pm…time to get ready for the gym…the kids are all well aware that daddy is awake now and are all in full on scream patrol! Mommy needs a break. Off to the gym I go…must keep up with my “trophy wife” status. **literally laughs out loud**
4:45pm…home from the gym…had a great workout due to the fact that the gym was pretty much empty. I like when the gym is vacant…not only do I get to use every piece of workout equipment that I want without having to wait but I also don’t feel stupid trying something new. Inevitably every time I get the courage to try out a new gym apparatus I fail miserably and usually end up hurting myself, more out of embarrassment rather then pain.
5:00pm…WTF is for dinner? **opens refrigerator in hopes that the light in her head turns on** Oh look at that…lots of leftovers…problem solved.
6:00pm…Let the countdown to bedtime begin. First off…bathing the dirty little monsters. There is something about these last 2 hours before bedtime where a force bigger then all of us takes over…let’s say my full Momster mode comes out. All of us are tired and cranky and just wanting the day to be over. They seem to fight over every toy, tattle about every little moment and mommy’s patience meter is completely tapped out!
6:45pm…I realize that I didn’t get the load of girls clothes in the dryer folded…DAMMIT! Here they stand soaking wet wrapped in towels while I try and gather up anything resembling pajamas…leggings and a t-shirt? Works for me. **listens to them whine several times about these NOT being pajamas**
7:40pm…That’s a wrap people…12 hours… in a day of the life… of yours truly.
One would think that moving into a house that is twice as big as the one before would mean that there would be more space and less clutter right? Absolutely wrong. More space means just that more to fill up with toys, books, coloring pages, crayons, blankets, socks, shoes….the list goes on and on.
(this is my bedroom at this very moment…keep in mind it was clean this morning)
I used to be a clean freak. And in freak I mean you could literally eat off my tiled floors. I would spend hours cleaning even though I absolutely hated every minute of it. Guess you could say I had a bit of OCD. Even after I had my first child I still tried to keep up with the perfection of cleanliness. As a mother you know what it is like after bringing home the first baby…you think everything that could happen is going to and that germs are the pernicious demons. Like I could literally see the germs festering. I don’t think I slept much in the first several months after bringing B home from the hospital. And when I think back to it this sort of fog comes over my mind.
By my third child it was abundantly clear that cleaning was no longer at the top of my list anymore. I had a 2 year old, 1 year old, a newborn, and a husband who worked out of town and was gone most of the time…oh and two teenage step sons to deal with…you could say I had more then enough on my plate. But the mess still bothered me. There were some days I would clean up my bedroom and then just hang out in there not venturing into the messy parts of the house. It was my cave and it was clean.
Now as my kids get older the messes seem to get bigger and I have realized that I am out numbered 3 to 1. Some days 5 to 1 because the teenage boys in the house like to do things such as stuff socks into the couch and leave half contained glasses of putrid liquid lurking in the shadows. My 14 year old’s room is so scary that I keep the door closed and never go in there. It looks like a waste haven. We discovered he was the messier one when the two older boys each got their own room. They used to have to share a room and it was a constant “he did it…no he did”. Well now we know.
When I finally do tire of the mess and decide to clean I just think to myself why bother cleaning when we all still live here. It just seems so pointless because literally 30 minutes later the toys have been drug out or someone has eaten and made a mess in the kitchen and someone has touched the outside of the dishwasher (will they ever have a dishwasher surface that is truly smudge proof?).
Needless to say my OCD has subsided through the years in which I probably have Zoloft to thank for some of that. Now don’t get me wrong…if I know someone is coming over I will do a quick run through the house like a mad woman on crack. Therefore if you just drop by unannounced (which I hate I might add) be prepared to step on a lego and enter at your own risk…I am not responsible for what happens because you failed to give me a heads up.
Now if you have boys there is always going to be the faint smell of pee in the bathroom and no matter what you try to mask it with, it just doesn’t seem to work. I think it stems from the middle of the night bathroom urges in which they stumble to the commode and then proceed to mark everywhere but inside it. You would think they would just learn to sit down and urinate.
I have thought of getting a ROOMBA, but then it dawns on me that “toddler nation” would probably destroy it. ((Pictures children trying to ride the $400 vacuum)). Not to mention it would probably give our poor german sheppard an anxiety attack.
(where do I get one of these?)
Right now I should probably be cleaning something or folding some laundry but instead I am catching up on some blogging and you know what? I don’t care…the mess will still be there tomorrow and the next day and the day after that and I am ok with that. I am ok because it’s my family and it’s our mess. Now where is my wine and febreeze?
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