At this moment, after a solid morning of cleaning, I would say my house is immaculate. I LIKE it that way. Very much. I feel a great sense of calm and togetherness knowing that everything is AS it should be, WHERE it should be. Things are clean and smell good. The offspring bedrooms are tidy and resemble something closer to a sleeping quarters rather than a Toy World junkyard. Yep…my house is feeling pretty darn awesome right at this moment.
Now let’s get something straight here. I am a separated Mother of 3 boys under the age of 8. I work part-time. I have a little old lady that has no family left whom I have adopted and look after as best I can. I try to exercise regularly. I have a solid group of friends whom I like to socialize with. I am always involved in some form of theater group. There is usually someone in my life resembling a ‘Gentleman Friend’ that requires some time and attention ( you must understand, I use the term “Gentleman” loosely). I am on the Board of Trustees for my children’s pre-school AND I have recently taken on this Blogging malarkey. So let it be said…that I am indeed …a busy woman. It is very fair to say , that how I LIKE my house is by NO means how my house usually IS. It is normally something more of a food, shoe and clothing dumping ground. There is ALWAYS dishes on the bench and a mountain of washing in the laundry. An old bit of pumpkin frozen to the back of the fridge that has developed its own microclimate. The bathroom has and endless trail of toothpaste smears, odd socks, undies and sand lying around. Infinte shoes from the front door to the back door. Just taken off and left . I find shoes everywhere. I have even found shoes in the third draw down in my kitchen. My bedroom is by far the most neglected room in the house.A trail of dirty clothes leading from the door to the left hand side of my bed dumped in exhaustion. Forever a mountain of clean washing sitting, ignored on my bedroom couch ,slowly growing in size. A size that requires me to hire Sherpas when I finally decide to tackle said mountain. How Mothers can keep their house immaculate with out the help of a cleaner is beyond me. I have one friend whom I can only describe as an actual Domestic Goddess ( we shall call her DG). She has a young son and another on the way. Her house is ALWAYS immaculate. Everything in its place. Clean , tidy and homely. Her house always smells of fresh baking and there is usually some sort of crafty project on the go. If I didn’t love her so much I would hate her and make a point of un-organising her pantry, messing up her bed and trashing her linen cupboard every time I went over. However she would probably thank me for giving her some thing to do. It must be hard having a perfect house when one so loves to clean.
It is the washing that gets me the most. I have always hated washing. Ever since I was a little girl I have wished we were all just happy to be naked just so I didn’t have to do washing. It is sooo bloody time consuming.Hanging it out. Folding it and putting it away. The winter Chinese laundry of the clothes horse by the fireplace. And it’s so bitsy. The odd socks. The rags. The fluff. The pegs. GAWD. It’s sooo bloody annoying. I can not tell you how many times I have to re-wash a load because it has sat in my washing machine for days slowly starting to stink of rejection. Leaving it on the clothesline for a week until I can be bothered facing it on the growing mountain in my room. Whilst every other chore gets done so I can maintain my delusion of Domestic Goddessness, the washing is the bastard child that is forever disregarded. A constant reminder of my domestic inadequacies hidden shamefully in my bedroom.
Something happened today however. A few months ago whilst visiting my SisterCousin ( a SisterCousin because we are close cousins. NOT because we are cousins that have the same Parent) I was harping on about my hate for my bastard child. Particularly the folding and putting away part. She suggested that perhaps, like her, I could choose NOT to fold it and just put it away. Now if you knew my SisterCousin you would be shocked to have heard her utter these words. Much like my friend ‘DG’, there is always baking in the tins and everything is always in place at her house. I suspect that her version of not folding washing is more along the lines of choosing not to iron the socks and undies before meticulously putting everything away. But I humoured her nonetheless. I resolved that I might just try this not folding yolk. It has always felt pointless anyway. Much to my distress,when ever the boys get dressed they just pull everything out of their draw and dump it on the ground until they find what it is they are looking for and then proceed to nonchalantly shove it all back in. My tea towel draw is a constant source of entertainment for Toru the 2 yr-old and the linen cupboard is forever on the floor due the boys always pulling out the bottom towel for their post-shower use.
So today folks I did it. I gave myself permission to have shitty looking inside draws. I threw the washing into its respective piles, re organised aforementioned piles into their sub-piles then shoved them in the draws. Carelessly and with a great deal of satisfaction. To be honest…the draws don’t even look any different. What would have taken me no less than 45 minutes , took me 17 minutes today. Everything is where is should be . My couch is recognisable as a couch. The Sherpas are having a beer whilst catching up on ‘Real House Wives of Beverley Hills’ and I am telling you of the liberation of my bastard child. I suspect there may be fallout. It might be little harder to find things. But I have a remedy for this. I will pull everything out of the draw until I find what I am looking for and then just shove it all back in. ‘Cos I can. Whose gonna tell me otherwise?
Egg Ramblings 