I hate cleaning…

I do… I hate to clean.  This is nothing new; just ask my daddy.

I have no memory of cleaning up as a child, but somewhere along the time middle school rolled around I remember the fights starting.  You couldn’t tell which clothes in my room were clean and which were dirty (which became good practice for use of the smell test my freshman year of college…TMI?).
Dad would fuss at me all the time about my room.

I’m not exaggerating, either.  There was usually paths through the clutter in my room – one from the door to the bed, one from the bed to the closet/dresser, and one from the closet to the door.  Sometimes my best friend would come over and talk to me while I cleaned up (usually this occurred after knock-down fight with my dad that ended with me in tears calling her to complain and her volunteering to walk over and talk to me while I cleaned).

I think I clean better with someone to talk to.  Even after Jeff and I got married I had a girl friend who would come over and HELP me clean when I really needed to do it right.  She was an expert cleaner (one of the many things I miss about her now that she is no long in my life).

Today, my house needed cleaning.  I still have a lot to do, but at least my living room is clean (by my own standards… we’re not talking clean enough for my grandmother).  Today’s cleaning was more than just picking up Ella’s junk and running the vacuum.  It involved me moving furniture and laying on the ground to be sure I got everything from under the heavier furniture.  Ella even asked me who was coming to stay… (that reminds me of a story from childhood about mom setting the table and Warren asking who was coming to dinner, ha!)

As I said, I still have a ways to go.  Ella’s room needs a thorough cleaning – something impossible to do while she is home.  I did get rid of a lot of stuff while she was in NC (shh….), but I didn’t have time to clean-clean her room.  Jeff and my bedroom really needs cleaning – it is always the last place I get to because we are the only people who go in there.

And now I’m pooped and letting Ella watch a Barney while I sit down.  I thought I was tired last night, too.
I was so tired yesterday that I put Ella in her bed (after a major meltdown) and let her yell it out until she fell asleep.  Then, since she’d had a nap she couldn’t get to sleep last night so at 9:15 I went and laid down in her bed beside her.  I woke up at midnight.  Hmph…
Then I let myself sleep until she got up at 8:00 this morning.

And now, I’m wondering if I’ll make it through dinner without falling asleep at the table.

Cleaning the house is the worst part of being a stay-at-home-mom.  I know, I know – those of you that work also have a house to clean, but you will (hopefully) let your husband help you.  The way my mind works, I stay home so cleaning the house is exclusively my job.  When he does help I get my feelings hurt that I don’t do a good enough job so he feels the need to fix what I’ve done wrong.
PLEASE READ THAT CORRECTLY – this is MY attitude… not Jeff’s.

Someone posted on facebook today that if they won the over $600 million lottery, they would hire a maid. I’m right there with them.  Having my house cleaned every week (twice a week?  we do have three cats, a dog, and a 3-year-old) would be my first splurge as a millionaire.

I hate cleaning… so, so much.

Now I’m off to vacuum Ella’s room and maybe mine & Jeff’s if I don’t let myself lay down on the bed instead.

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