Cry For Help

One of the biggest obstacles to overcome as a stay-at-home / work-part-time-from-home / blog-whenever-possible mom is the overwhelming housework.

Guess what? I've been fighting the same migrating mess for an entire week now. Actually, it's probably been longer than that but if I were able to recall further back than a week I'd be dead because the whole miserable depressing picture would be too much to bear. And thinking about it would take too long when I have other things to do-- like clean.

I am asking nicely and for the last time for the two other fully-ambulatory, fully-articulate members of the household to please put their dirty dishes in the deeshwasherator, put clothing and shoes someplace other than the floorspace in which they're standing when they remove them, and wipe up stuff when it spills. Please STOP assuming that just because there's already crap on the counter / floor / sink that it's okay for you to add to the mess and assume that the maid will get it. The maid is about to shank you.

See, in our house, messes are like a day at the beach. Going there seems like such a great idea-- as in, "Hey, I'm going to go clean up that mess (pile of laundry that I need to fold / sinkful of dirty dishes to wash / piles of Craps on the dining room table) so I don't have to worry about it anymore. I don't really want to do it, but I don't want the mess either." But then you get there and the sand burns your feet, somebody next to you is smoking the smelliest cigar ever, the water is freezing and it totally beats you up, and you arrive home with sand in your car, hair, and all of your cracks.

But I'm fearless (and a little reckless and stupid) so off I go. On the way, something else catches my eye-- a dirty baseboard, perhaps. That means I need to clean the floor, too. Well, I should dust before I do the floors but before I do that, I have to get to the laundry. Well, if I'm going to do the laundry then I might as well wait to fold this pile because then I can knock it all out at once when the next load comes out of the dryer, right? So start a load of laundry and get to the dishes but make sure the Beans are going down for a nap and not just faking me out because they pooped in their pants and don't want me to notice. While I sniff around their door and wait for them to fall asleep, I'll do something quiet, like clear off the table. But wait, I can't do that because that involves walking up and down the hall to put away stuff-- so here's what I'll do: I'll organize all the Craps (which I should just throw away because that's their eventual fate anyway) into piles for each person to put away himself because those Craps belong to him, not me.

OK, so while organizing the Craps the Beans finally fall asleep. I can then start on the dishes and while doing the dishes, the bell on the dryer dings. Well, I have to get that done so I can turn over the laundry and start another load, so bring in the clothes from the dryer and note with dismay how insurmountably large the piles on the sofa and the recliner have grown and return to the dishes so we have clean stuff to eat our meals today. I look out the window and, surprisingly, notice there's still no line of people eagerly waiting to take on my job. Do I hear a Bean? Dry my hands off, run in and return a Binkie to a Beanmaw and return to the kitchen.

Did I hear my phone ringing? Oh yes, it's a work issue requiring immediate attention. Place a phone call and leave a message, then return to the dishes. Wash wash wash. Was that the phone again? Yes. I missed the return call. Call back and speak with the person. Resolve the issue and run over to the computer and compose and email notifying all parties of the situation's resolution. Yay! What's this? Oh, a Facebook message. Wow! Lots of other messages!

Reply to all that require attention and return to the dishes. Start the deeshwasherator. Start on the mountain of clothes. The dryer dings again. Turn over the laundry and the Beans start calling for me. Walk back to their room and note on the way that the Craps are still on the dining room table, the dishes that didn't fit into the deeshwasherator are still in the sink, and the pile of clothes all over the place has merely grown and I didn't even have time to consider the floors. By the end of the day, Hubby and Biscuit have dropped more Craps on the table, more dishes in the sink and shed their clothes into new piles on the floors.

I don't know the solution. I've considered forsaking my blog and my Pilates class and afternoon walks to pick up Biscuit from school but if I were in this situation and had no physical or creative outlet I'd find myself not only living in squalor but also fat, miserable and psychotic and considering how close I feel to all of that right now (because I seriously have not washed my hair since Friday) those things cannot give. It's going to have to be something else.

Seriously guys, I'm gonna shank you. And sadly, the knife is probably going to be dirty.