I am so far behind on so many things that I’m kind of paralyzed. I don’t know what monumental task I should attempt first.
Before we moved, back when we were living in a tiny house, I thought keeping a big house clean would be easy. I told everyone that it would be so much better when I had a place for everything and everything in its place and I wasn’t trying to cram six people and their belongings into too small of a space.
Oh how naïve I was.
Yes, we do have places for everything. But I can’t get the kids to put things in those places. We have tons of storage, but we moved in so quickly that everything just got thrown in closets with little to no organization. I’m still rearranging things. And the kids have their own rooms in which to keep their own stuff, but their stuff still wanders the house.
I feel like I spend my days constantly picking up the stuff they drop.
Then there’s the actual cleaning. Just vacuuming the downstairs takes forever, and I have to do it almost daily thanks to a black dog and four messy kids. Keeping four bathrooms clean has defeated me. A new neighbor came over today for an impromptu playdate, and it occurred to me that I didn’t have a single bathroom that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to have her use.
My dining room is filled with folded laundry. B, half joking, asked if I wanted him to turn the whole room into laundry and craft space. I’m still considering it. The laundry on the dining room table is just the tip of the iceberg. The laundry room itself is piled with clean laundry, most of it not in baskets. My kids have gotten used to digging through mountains of clothes to get dressed.
This Sunday I mowed the lawn. One of my friends asked why I wanted to mow the lawn considering everything else I need to get done. My response: “It’s the only chore I do that stays done for more than five minutes.” Another friend suggested hiring a cleaning lady. But I just can’t bring myself to do it. Because she’d clean, the house would be spotless, and then one of the kids would spill something on the floor and I’d lose my mind.
I think unfolded laundry and a little dirt is better than a nervous breakdown. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.