Just Griping

I hate housekeeping chores. Basically, I'm a decent cook and a craptastic housekeeper. This is a big part of why I prefer to work outside the home; then the day-to-day chores aren't so much of well... chores. If I'm at work, the kids aren't here messing the place up (they're at Grandma's house, messing it up instead). And I'm pretty sure that we all slack off on the basic tidying tasks when I'm home - even the adults - because there's this unspoken assumption that I'll take care of it. And of course, my guilt-ridden little self feels like if I'm not bringing in income, I should be doing it all.

I'm far far better at mental tasks than physical ones. Organization, I'm your girl. Tidying it up, which everything in its specific place, that's me. The constant round of laundry-dishes-tidy-dust-vacuum... not so much. It's so endless. The kids help, of course, but the youngest is at the age where help is more hindrance, and the others are still young enough that they need to be followed up on. Shoving things into the corners of the room does not constitute cleaning the room. I begin to feel much sympathy for my mom, when I was about 14 and a total pain in the butt about housework. She put up with a lot.

And if this kid yells "Darn it!" that loudly in my ear one more time - they're playing Lego Indiana Jones - I won't be held responsible for my reaction.

I just sent them in to clean their room and they're both grumbling about how mean I am and how there's so much to do. Well, kiddos, if you had not shoved it all under the bed, this would not be an issue now, would it? And Abby's muttering, "Grandma wouldn't make me do this," (which is crap; of course Grandma would), and Leanna's complaining because Lizzy put something on Leanna's shelf that didn't belong there. 

Remember... it should look like these pictures from the last time Mom did it herself, right after we got the new bed.

I'm gonna need that break when hubby comes home from taking Leanna back to her mom. Me and Calgon and - sigh - this mountain of clothes that I won't be able to fold until I'm behind locked doors.