Trying to clean the house with three kids around is like attempting to take a swim in a lead suit. You flap your arms. And flap. And flap. And flap. But no matter how hard you try, you just. keep. sinking.
It’s vacation week and and if you’re wondering why I haven’t invited you and your kids over for a playdate, it’s not because I hate you. (Well that’s true for most of you.) It’s because the house is triply filthy. Don’t get me wrong, even when I’m down to one destruction-causing child, my house is never clean. Ever. Occasionally it might be mildly suitable for human habitation, but mostly it’s a containment unit of dust, bits of miscellaneous food, dirty laundry, paperwork and toys. Toys everywhere. Toys in places you never thought toys would be.
There are multiple factors which contribute to this unfortunate situation.
1. The square-footage-to-person ratio here is not good. We live in a 1950’s-style three-bedroom ranch – the “starter” home we’ve been enduring for 10 years now – and if you’ve ever stepped foot in one of these, there is no need for further explanation. If you’ve only ever lived in or visited obnoxiously-sized mansions or sprawling estates, I’ll give you the short version: our house is freaking small.
2. Though I strive for organization and often buy bins of various shapes and sizes (one of my favorite hobbies), I just can’t ever seem to actually get much of anything in order. But the plastics industry, they still love me. My husband has suggested that if I covered our entire house with a plastic bin, then I might just be happy. (By the way, I am on the lookout for a ranch-sized bin. Please use my “contact me” page if you come across one.)
3. My children lack the “clean” gene. They just don’t pick anything up. Ever. Not unless I ask 7 times in my mean voice (and there is a precise escalation that must be used each time), threaten to withhold food or tell them that next time there is some sort of fun family outing, they will have to instead stay with Mrs. Peacock, the world’s meanest babysitter. She yells. She screams. She wears glasses and frumpy clothing. She makes you eat all of your asparagus and do chores all night and THEN forces you to watch educational television. Oh she may sound a lot like me, children, but she’s worse. Much, much worse. (As an aside, I have no idea why I named my imaginary and souped-up version of Super Nanny “Mrs. Peacock.” Like Ray Stantz’ Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, it just popped in there.)
4. Oftentimes, I can be like a child who gets distracted by something shiny on the rug, so that what should be a quick, easy chore turns out to be a DIY time suck, where nothing actually gets accomplished. Instead of just putting the groceries away, I have to first reorganize the canned goods by size and alphabetize the spices. Then, well, I never really liked that pantry door, I think it’s time I removed it, let me just go get the tools from the basement. Oh! There’s that curtain panel I’ve been looking for, let me see if I can find the rod. Whoa! that laundry needs to be sorted before it gets moldy and wait, the washing machine needs to be sanitized before I can put a load in. Let me just look for the paperwork to see how that needs to be done again. Ah, there’s that bill I needed to pay, I’ll just go run it outside to the mailbox before the mailman comes, and would you look at that? My stick son’s head has fallen off the back of the minivan window, now where do you suppose that has gone? Wow, our yard looks like crap. Let me call my husband at work under the guise of just saying hello and complain about the grass because goddammit, I’m doing all this work, he should be doing something. But first I’ll put the groceries away. Sometimes, I’m my own worst enemy.
5. Guilt. I feel guilty when I am neglecting my children to clean and I feel guilty when I am playing with them and letting the house go to shit.
With all three kids home this week, all of these things have just been exacerbated because there’s so much more chaos. Like I said, the house is triply filthy this week. And mostly I have tried to shrug it off. But at least once in the last few days, I have stomped around and threatened to throw everything in the house away. I think the kids are used to it because they sort of just mind their own business and wait for my little tirade to die down before resuming normal activities. Anyway, it’s a thing I’ve got going on that helps restore balance to the system.
There’s no doubt that upkeep around the house will be a little easier next week, but I’ll miss our more leisurely schedule and having more time together. For April vacation, I either have to better mentally prepare myself for a week of unbridled squalor or, buy more bins.
