Queen of Clean

I like to have a clean house. I like to walk around and enjoy a dustless, clutter-free, lemon-scented environment.

Lately, I've had to relax my standards somewhat. Well, to be honest, this has been happening since the advent of children into our home--but at one point, I was happy if all the of toys were back in their allotted places by bedtime, so that for at least a few hours, I could feel like my living room was my own again. At that point, with a house only 2/3 this size, keeping my two bathrooms scrubbed and my counters clean was still fairly painless, even with two little boys wandering around it.

Thanks to our home's increased footage, not to mention bathroom count, and a saw-dusty, drywall-dusty, mussy, paint-cans-everywhere, tools-all-over-the-counter ongoing renovation project from heck in my kitchen, I've had to turn more blind eyes to the clutter surrounding me than should be physiologically possible. It's just for a season, goes the mantra rolling around in my brain.

Well, there's nothing like the prospect of company to send me flying around in a flurry of mops, sponges, and Mr. Clean. Last night I scrubbed four of our five bathrooms until they shone. (The fifth one has a toilet, patiently waiting to be re-attached to the floor after being Roto-Rootered for whatever blockage-causing item Jude flushed into it. So for that one, I just closed the door and tiptoed quietly away.) (And I don't really use Mr. Clean for anything--I just thought it had a nice ring in that sentence!) I attacked the mountain of laundry that never seems to get any smaller. And--you better sit down for this one--I even pulled out the VACUUM!!

Vacuuming has got to be my nemesis. I don't know why I hate it so much. The truly unfortunate part is that I'd say 70% of our floor space on the main level is carpet--including the area under the dining room table. What nincompoop ever thought that shag rug under a table was a good idea? Since moving here, some new additions to this already-stained haven of pestilence are a honey streak from when Jude was setting the table for breakfast, a tea splotch or two, and playdough in various colours, none of which match my other decor choices.

Back to vacuuming--the fortunate thing is, Jude thinks our vacuum is the coolest thing on the planet, and so when I pulled it out, he wanted to do the vacuuming. Okay, so he got bored with it about 30 seconds and two feet into the job, but last night I was further blessed by the fact that Jason then took over. What a wonderful man.

So, now I feel like I can present my house to guests, and not have them want to throw up in their mouths from the grunge, grime, gook, gunk, or any other g-affiliated words that may apply.

I should have company every week.


Last night, I was wondering: When you swat a fly, and it's not quite dead yet when you throw it in the trash, does it think it's gone to heaven?


In other breaking news, Jabin got his first two teeth this week. They busted through on Wednesday--the two bottom front. Although he has been much more content since this occurred, it makes me a little sad--I'll never have a toothless baby again. That's the bittersweetness of passing a milestone--there will never be a point where that milestone has un-happened again. While we don't want to stagnate, there is something in a mother's soul that wouldn't mind dragging those early childhood moments out a little, since they fly so fast, and too soon will be gone completely, and the kid will be moving out for college, and you'll be helping him pack his things into the back of an old Volkswagon Rabbit so he can head clear across the country to study in another province, and your nest will be empty, and you are left casting about helplessly like a fish out of water wondering what to do with your time and where your sweet little toothless baby went, anyway?

Okay, I'm done now.