Spinning My Wheels

Ok, so there will be some complaining. Additionally, this is nothing new for every mom/wife/woman. But, I want to vent and since I'm the selfish author of this blog, I'm gonna do it. (Yeah, I only have one kid and I know there's another on the way so don't even say anything about it if you've got more 'cause I see what's in my future. Again, why don't people just start crying when you announce with jubilation "We're pregnant!"?)

You know how you feel all jazzed one day (and yes, by one day I mean that the feeling is quickly fleeting only to be replaced by endless days of feeling guilty or trying to justify not doing anything) and clean the house. Maybe you even clean the house, go to the park, do some of your calling and make dinner. That's a pretty full day.

The next morning you wake up feeling good about yourself. You head into the kitchen. Damn it! You left the dirty dishes in there thinking, "Just this once" since you were pretty tired after the full day you had and it was basketball night so you were on your own for the bath and bed time routine. The milk from last night's cup smells already, there's cheese on at least one plate, spaghetti on another and your husband's lunch container - still sealed and thus providing ample heat and moisture for rapid bacteria growth - sitting quietly on the counter (nope, it didn't even make it into the sink). Grrr. You can handle this. You'll just work your way through the chores like any other day. Remember, you're already one step ahead because you did a major cleaning yesterday.


Heading back into the family room, you see the substantial breakfast of dry Fruit Loops and milk as energized your kid and she is now leaving her fingerprints on the TV (yes, freshly dusted) and full on hand prints on the glass on the doors (you guessed right, they too, were cleaned). While you were contemplating the dish situation, she made her way down the hallway to get herself a diaper. Of course, being the efficient kid she is, she pulled her old diaper off while in motion. As you head down there to see what is going on, squish! Pee in your toes. I'm sure in some high end day spa this is the newest form of a pedicure, but not at my house. Gross! Chase ensues as the kid knows this must be some funny game since your screaming and jumping around. Finally wrangled, you slap the new diaper on her and decide to put on some clothes yourself since underwear aren't the most conventional attire for the day ahead.

Notice the remote, batteries strewn on the floor, bowl, and hanger (what is that doing out here?)

Oh yeah, I was soo good yesterday I put some laundry in. Crap. I got so involved in the other stuff, I left it all in the wash. The dryer is full of something or other, too. You make the switch only to realize your one and only neutral colored bra is wet. The only option: black. The only shirts left in your closet: white. Of course. Start layering is what I say. With 5 or 6 different shirts on, no one will be able to tell, right? Plus, isn't layering "in" right now? Teeth brushed and hair put back, you're ready to conquer the day.



Since you took a few minutes to get yourself "ready" you shall be punished accordingly. Your kid has totally dismantled your bedside table and has some kind of throat lozenge dripping down her chin. Her nose is running and she is naked again! She slaps her chest like a gorilla and yells, "NAKED!" as she runs full tilt out of the room. Sigh. At least, you say, there shall be no vacuuming or dusting today.

As you re-enter ground zero (the family room), you realize that the dust has already settled back on the shelves. The cereal from this morning is now ground into the carpet, but not yet fine enough to just filter through so you can pretend to ignore it for now, nope you'll either be vacuuming or pulling ground up Chex off the bottom of your feet all day. The kitchen floor is sticky with throat lozenge. The oven light has been turned on so your child can look inside just to make sure there isn't anything of value in there. She has climbed the table and spilt salt (for good luck, I'm sure) on the floor. Her babies are sitting diligently in their chairs, waiting for breakfast.

You look around and think, "What in the hell has happened here?" Suddenly, the realization that all of that work means zero hits you like a ton of bricks. The progression goes like this (it's very similar to the abuse cycle): "the high" (you've just cleaned or done something productive), the "it's ok that things get dirty, I'll just clean a bit at time (you know, maintenance things like a few dishes, picking up toys, etc.) but I'm still feeling like life is worth living" phase, the "I'm getting really sick of this phase", to the "I don't give a flip about this and I'll never clean again because it's a totally useless endeavor that no one seems to notice, let alone appreciate" phase. At this point, you protest anything beyond just being sort of sanitary. But alas, after a period of time (this phase varies quite a bit for each person depending on their personal situation, number of children, spouse, and level of desperation) you succumb to the hope that it's worth it to clean again and start the whole process over.