Ahhh...my time. This was the second time since moving here (6 months ago) that I had the house to myself. It doesn't happen often so I was going to make the most of it. What's the first thing I did. Well burnt a CD of course!!! Slipped it into the CD player, turned it up to "almost going to upset the neighbors" and off I went. Grabbed my mop bucket, some dusting rags, my purple polka dotted gloves and my most most favourite cleaner, I was set.
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I wiped down counter tops, dusted shelves, and scrubbed floors. I cleaned both bathrooms, polished windows and picked up toys. I made this house sparkle!! I was happy and content. When I walked around the place I felt like I had accomplished something.
Does this sound as pathetic as I think it does?
It's almost a guarantee that the neighbor will stop in to chat or a friend will drop in unexpectedly the day I have been up three or four times before 7:00am. The day that the breakfast dishes and the dinner dishes from the night before are stacked a foot high on my counter top. The day that I have four loads of laundry all over the dining table, the sofa, love seat..and of course the floor. On the day I have decided to wait to jump in for a shower until Alyson goes down for her nap
Is this what it has come to? Since I stay at home to raise my children I think that my house needs to be spotless ALL the time. I think it's the only way that the other moms will think I am successfully doing what I am expected to do.
What about the time spent quizzing Destyni for her math test during breakfast, what about playing cars with Jonathan on the floor, as we race his cars over the piles of laundry. What about getting on my hands and knees and chasing Alyson under the table. Why am I always so worried about what others think?
Why do I feel as if I have something accomplished when my house is clean? Why is this even a concern of mine? Why am I finding happiness in the bottom of a mop bucket?
