And then I noticed the twins were starting to come down with something. And that something hit me too... hard. Our entire house looks like the surface of Mars- we're not quite sure if there are any life forms or not. Like the surface of Mars, but add in about a billion random toys to the landscape. There. That's the picture.
While trying to locate a (still MIA) sippie cup, I crouched on the floor to peer under the couches and saw this under the bench:
Like a tumbleweed; but made of dust, hair, and paper specks. In. My. House.
(and this is not the only one, I'd wager)
This is a good reason to move, right? Start off with a clean slate? The house has reached a level to which I'm not entirely sure I could even pay someone to come clean it without feeling guilty of letting another human witness the atrocities that are my house.
I am just imaging our sweet little cleaning lady (we've had her over a few times) trying to hide the horror, the abject terror, the unadulterated disgust upon seeing the state of things over here. This is where robots may become handy. Yes. I need a ROBOT MAID!
I feel mya sister! and I dont have three children- two sick and a post op baby either! and I'm not sick! but seriously- I was so much better at my house when I was teaching! its nuts! summer-ness I call it- send that maid over here when youre done!ReplyDelete
Who cares about a little dust! I thought you might enjoy this poem that I had memorized while raising my kids... enjoy!ReplyDelete
Author: by Ruth Hulbert Hamilton
Cleaning and scrubbing
can wait until tomorrow
For babies grow up,
we've learned to our sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs,
Dust go to sleep,
I'm rocking my baby
and babies don't keep.