Monday, May 11, 2009

My house is a dump. I do not say this with love.

Everyone told me that life would change once the babies were born. I had sort of gathered that myself as well. But one of the big changes I was told to plan for was in the housekeeping department. As in, let it go. Your house will not be clean.

Okay. I'm hearing you. What I'm wondering is, where's the twelve step program? Cause this girl likes a clean house. I have standards. And if you just want me to *poof* - let them go, well I'm going to need some help with that. Here's my pre-baby cleaning schedule. Don't judge:

Clean the kitchen. This includes running the dishwasher, sweeping, cleaning the stove off, etc.

Make the bed.
Wash and fold any and all dirty laundry. Put said laundry away.

Many times a week:
Clean the bathroom. Toilet, sink, counter tops, tub. Sweep and wash floor.
Vacuum. For the love of god, vacuum.

Change sheets on the bed.
Clean bedroom.
Dust entire house.
Wipe down television and electronics.
Water all plants. This is not actually a cleaning exercise. But it does keep the foliage alive.
Wash bathmats.
Wash all floors.
Wash cabinets.
Wash main windows.
Wipe down woodwork.

God - just writing about it all makes me feel all tingly and satisfied. Until I remember that those pretty lists are no more. The foliage is dying.

Here's my post-baby cleaning schedule. Don't judge:

(There is no plan! Dear lord, I am winging it - flying by the seat of my pants! There is no plan! No PLAN!!!)

And here's the proof:

This is my bedroom. In this particular case, somebody has done laundry. Note that the laundry remains in the basket. It has been there for over five weeks. Also, note the container of wipes. I almost shouldn't admit that the container does not hold fresh, new wipes. Rather, it contains dried up, dirty, used wipes from late night changes. That's right folks. Dehydrated poop particles. I'm keeping them in a plastic container in my bedroom. Because.
This is the "family bed." Note the crib directly adjacent. Nobody sleeps in this crib. Because my babies flip the f*** out if you put them in a crib. You may also note the moses baskets in the crib, signifying a desperate, yet failed, attempt to lure the babies into the crib. Look, babies. Soft and cozy baskets. What? No? You want to sleep with mommy and daddy instead? And puke little baby vomitus on us all night? Well okay then. I should add that while you may not be able to see it, let alone smell it, there is most certainly three to four gallons of dried spit up on those sheets. Mostly around the head and pillow area.

This is our nursery. No babies sleep in here. Rather than letting the room go to waste, we now store the air mattress against the wall. For emergencies where loving husband gets kicked out of bed by mommy. Because dear lord - there are four of us in a puke encrusted bed.

So my secret is out. Do not expect an invitation over to my house.

And I have to be honest. I'll find the time to clean this disaster long before I learn to accept it. Because while I am all about acceptance - I am sleeping in dried vomit.


Jilliane said...

I do not need an invite b/c I am inviting myself. When the boys are at the bachelor party, I am coming to your house, with my hair in a bandana, and I am cleaning ALL day. I'm talkin' deep cleaning. You hold the babies and I will kiss them as I pass, but I will be cleaning. This is what real friends do :) Looking forward to it!

amazingk8 said...

What about breastmilk stains?!Those are a wonderful complement to the dried spit up. Sometimes its hard to tell which is which...

Deb said...

And who did you inherit this neat freak stuff from? House looks pretty normal for a home that has two brand new cute adorable baby boys living there. When I go to your home, all I see are big toothless grins, and eyes that light up when they see their mommy and daddy. All I see is love.

Jim said...

Oh my goodness. You could be my twin sister. Here's how bad it is, my husband found this post and sent it to me because we've been getting in major fights about how clean (NOT) our house is lately. Our son is 17 months old, so we should be able to find some time to clean, but trust me, it doesn't get better. You think that when they are older and can entertain themselves you'll find time to clean. But mostly you'll just chase them around and clean up what you can as they mess it up as you run after them. Such as sweeping up a 20 pound bag of dog food that I can barely lift, but somehow a 26 pound baby can knock over and empty in less than 10 seconds. God bless you, dear. And by the way, your clutter looks amazingly organized compared to mine. My clutter just looks like clutter, yours looks almost neat. I hope that makes you feel better.

Anonymous said...

Hey I'm a clean freak too, with an 19 month old boy. I love him he is such a joy. We donnt have a dishwasher and our laundry is at the bottom of the stairs which makes it difficult because I have to haul it up and down. Just writing this makes me realize that I am so lucky to have a washing machine and dryer to use and that I don't have to haul it all to the laundro mat or do it in the creek at the side of the house. Gratitude. Even though my house is far from perfect, I feel so incredibly lucky and fortunate.

Anonymous said...

I know this is an old post, and you probably have figured out a solution by now, but for those who have run across this, looking for an answer, I'd like to offer a suggestion:


Just search it. For those who are busy. Overwhelmed. About-to-lose-your-mind-because-you-don't-know-where-to-go-from-here.

I used to be a TERRIBLE housekeeper. I had no kids, no excuses. I was just bad at it. My mom did everything for me growing up, so I just assumed the same house fairy that lived at their house would follow me to my own when I moved out. Wrong.

It was bad. Dishes piled in BOTH sides of the sink, all over the counters, IN THE OVEN... Laundry (dirty? Clean? Who knows, because it was all on the floor!) piled waist high in the corner.

We had a Husky, and to clean up the lovely CLUMPS of fur he would leave around the house, I'd simply turn on the ceiling fan. The air vortex it made would make a tiny little cyclone of hair in the center of the floor after a little while that I could just sweep into a dustpan.

When I say it was bad, it was BAD. After about 5 years of this, I finally realized that the housecleaning fairy of old didn't exist, and that if something was going to be done, I'd have to be the one to do it.

Enter Flylady. Her very simple and easy-to-follow encouragement was exactly what I needed, and her book, 'Sink Reflections' became my bible.

I'm still not the BEST housekeeper, but never again has my home reverted back to that dismal state again, and for someone who is usually organized and 'cleanly', just needs help keeping up because of life changes, it can really be a god-send.

Hopefully this will help someone, like it helped me.