Tag Archives: cleaning

Dear Cinderella, Can I Borrow Those Mice?

This is how I want to spend the day.

There won’t be a long post today. I have banned myself from writing. I kind of had to. I’ve been on the computer too much lately and my house shows it. The evidence of my compulsion to paint and write and socialize is all over the floor…literally. I have to spend the day cleaning. It’s my punishment for trying to be entertaining and awesome for so long. Anyway, as you are out and about today just think of me …home…picking up…all the stuff. I might even rename myself Cinderella for a few hours.

The “Library” has become more of a toy depository than anything else.

 

Because it is THAT BAD around here. My floors have fur coats and my table looks like an episode of hoarders minus the interesting personalities. It’s a disaster.

Oh. My. Gawd. I Need An INTERVENTION.

 

I folded all of the laundry just in time to add all of the laundry back onto the little bed…also located in the library. It’s slowly moving into the fourth dimension of “How do people live like that?”

 

Mom, can’t we just get a house cleaner up in here? I am afraid to step foot on the floor…

 

I know you are thinking I should be cleaning instead of writing about cleaning. Trust me, I am about to get to it. I just want to finish my coffee first….

Enjoy your Friday! I can only hope your house is cleaner than mine. I just wish those little mice in Cinderella were real. That would be wonderful. It’s not fair that magic cleaning isn’t an actual thing. Disney and their Princess franchise have ruined me for life!

Want to read more about my cleaning woes? Check out When Did I Become The Maid? or No! No! No! Not The Dishes Again!

 

NO! NO! NO! Not The Dishes AGAIN!

 

Sometimes I spend time drinking coffee and looking around this place we call “home.” I often wonder why my house is always messy.  Then, finally, I realized it’s not entirely my fault. I mean, sure, some of it is my lack of domestic ambition and the whole I-prefer-to-spend-my-time-doing-almost-anything-else-but-clean-stuff thing, but there is more to it than that. I’ve brought photographic evidence to support my claim and of course I blame Tiny-Small (mostly because she can’t really talk yet and so I won’t have to defend myself against her quick-witted retorts).

The vacuum cleaner is not a show pony. No standing please.

It’s pretty hard to vacuum when your child keeps trying to ride it like a pony.

Or, like one of those mechanical bulls in a Texas Bar and Grill. I’m really amazed she hasn’t demanded a cowboy hat and boots yet. I’m kind of dreading the day she decides to ride a real mechanical bull, or go to a bar and grill, or wear really short shorts. I kind of hope she stays in the library reading books until she is at least 30.Sometimes I try to use the broom instead, but that doesn’t work out well either. I usually just end up with a Samurai toddler and I have to practice my duck and cover moves. She insists on helping, but usually something just gets broken…hopefully not my nose.There are also a few moments of theater dancing and singing incorporated into every cleaning session which means things get missed a lot and it also means that sweeping takes FOREVER.The problem is we would much rather be playing in our under-the-table-house and turning the light switch on and off (to pretend that first it is night and then it is day), than to be cleaning something that’s only going to get twice as messy five minutes later. Kind of like how washing the dishes just seems to make dirty dishes multiply. Sometimes, in the middle of the day, I will just walk into the kitchen and start screaming, “NO! NO! NO!!! Not the dishes AGAIN!”Tiny-Small tries to help wash the dishes too. There are photographs of this phenomenon, but they are far too gruesome to show live on the Internet (now, that is saying something). So, if you ever stop by unannounced (without at least three days notice) don’t be surprised if the house is messy. It’s kind of our signature trade mark or something. Or, if you happen to look in the window, don’t be surprised to see a half-dressed toddler riding the vacuum cleaner like a pony. It’s sort of impossible to predict when the madness will occur around here. Without prior notice you’ll probably just get lost in the shuffle.

She also rides it backwards just to show off.

If she keeps reading this book she’ll know everything she needs to know which gives me more time to read blogs and eat chocolate.

This photo is blurry because she just did a double back flip…I swear.

This photo is blurry due to dancing and attempting to do jazz hands while sweeping (dangerous). Rosie is obviously impressed.

Lucy and Tiny-Small used to live together under the table, but things weren’t working out so Tiny got her own apartment in the suburbs.

Child Of The Sweat-Stained Sock

So.

Let’s talk chores here. Tiny Small just turned two and I have been trying to get her to pick up her clothes, books, toys, spilt milk, dropped grapes, shoes and broken crayons for days now. I have to say it’s not really going all that well. She usually just stares at me in disbelief when I beg her to mop up her mess or stack up her books. If she can find a way to clean up her mess that actually creates MORE of a  mess, then, she is totally down with the whole “cleaning up” after herself thing. When she spills her milk I hand her a towel and say, “Here ya go. Clean it up.” She takes the towel, throws it on the ground and then smears the milk around with her foot. After a couple of minutes of that she picks up the wet towel, throws it on the chair, the couch, or the dog and then walks off leaving milk footsteps in her wake. Yes, it is maddening. Yes, she is two. Yes, I am her mom. AND: Yes, I need a vacation.

But, she LOVES to help with the laundry and so now, Tiny Small finally has one chore we can all agree upon. She has become the laundry queen. Toddler of the bath towel. Baby of the clean underwear and child of the sweat-stained sock. She is “Master of the Anti-Sort League” and princess of the “everything looks better when it is slightly pink” club. She is a child after my own heart.

Step 1: Stare at the laundry for a while. Make sure mom wasn’t lying when she said, “Laundry doesn’t do itself.”

Step 2: Arrange laundry in the dryer precisely. If necessary, take it out, drop it on the floor, step on it and then put it back in.

Step 3: Repeat step 2 several times. Then scream (loudly) when told to close the door. While screaming, pull laundry back out of dryer and repeat step 2 again.

Step 4: Make sure the dryer light is working properly. Push the button in as many times as possible to verify that the light goes off when the door is closed. Refuse to move, at all costs, when mom tries to close the door. This is the most important step. Once door is closed, throw entire body on the ground and kick and scream until mom offers to let you push the button and start the dryer.

There you have it. We have started a laundry empire. Tiny Small will be ruler for life. Eventually, she will move away and have to be replaced. Until then, I’m going to put my feet up and admire all of the piles of somewhat clean laundry surrounding me and hope the dryer light button never, ever, ever breaks.