Tuesday, January 17, 2012

And That Was a New Roll of Toilet Paper

I'm pretty sure I've never mentioned this on here before, but I love to vacuum.

There's something so satisfying to me about pushing the vacuum forward and backward, immediately seeing the carpet look better, cleaner.  Instant gratification.  For me, vacuuming is second only to push-mowing, which will always be my first love.

I indulged in this second-favorite chore of mine this morning.  By 8:30 am, I had half of the upstairs vacuumed, then stopped for awhile to make sure the boys weren't destroying the house.  This led to a 2-hour distraction of playing with Atticus and Caedmon, but eventually I remembered I had never finished cleaning upstairs.  I made sure the two boys were playing relatively peaceably together, then headed back up to finish vacuuming and put some freshly laundered clothing away.

Ten minutes later, I was done, and feeling about as Super-Mommyish as I ever do.

I came back downstairs, and all those super feelings dissolved.

Caedmon had wrestled the rubberband off the handles of one of the bookcases and pulled half the books out onto the floor.  He had also discovered that his mother had evidently neglected to completely close and thus engage the latch on the dishwasher, so had opened it and taken out all the dirty dishes, except for one solitary spoon that he decided to leave in there.  He also found time to pull the diaper bag off the bench by the front door, turn it upside down, and completely empty it of it's contents.

Second floor of the house:  Clean.  First floor:  Unfit for human habitation.

I walked right past all that maddening clutter, fed the boys lunch, got them ready for naps, and put them down. I came back downstairs, returned all the books to their shelves, the dirty dishes to the washer, and the various diapers, wipes, etc, to the bag.  I decided I should go ahead and eat lunch before heading outside to shovel the several inches of snow we received last night and this morning off the sidewalk.  My hands were pretty grimy from all that cleaning, so I listened to the inner voice that sounds alarmingly like my mother, and headed to the bathroom to wash my hands.

I was greeted with this sight:

I give up.

1 comment:

  1. I feel your pain - Brielle clears out my cookbooks off of the shelf on an almost daily basis. And then she takes the loose papers and spreads them throughout the house. And if I don't get them picked up soon enough, Kodi has a snack...


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