Most kids wait to put their parents in an old age home until they can no longer care for them. Mine wants to put me there today. I don't even know if its an old age home she has in mind.
Maybe it's a different kind of institution all together. At this point, I might welcome a rubber room. At least it would be clean.
My house isn't ever 'dirty,' but it also isn't ever 'tidy'. Three kids between the ages of 16 and 2 live here. I welcome friends of theirs, and mine with open arms. Being a fussy housekeeper isn't at the top of my priority list as a work at home mother with a full roost. Some may tsk tsk at me, but hey, at least I am honest.
Now on the other side of the housekeeping spectrum you will find my mother. God love her heart, but she vacuums both before and immediately after company and you would never in a million years, find a throw pillow actually thrown any where in her immpeccibly decorated condo. A full load of laundry signals a need to break out the Tide box to her. An empty underwear drawer has the same effect on me. Again- better to be honest.
Anyway, I digress. Mom is coming for Bridget's birthday. Granted, it's a hell of a flight to get here all the way across the country for a 2 year olds birthday party. It's the third time she will have made the trip to celebrate. It's also the third time that I have found myself cleaning like a maniac to get the place ship shape for her arrival.
However, it's not that we have a larger house, or more stuff this year than last. It's that I have a busier little person. A two foot tall, almost 2 year old terror. If I fold a towel and put it on the shelf, she pulls the whole stack down. If I sweep the floor she kicks the pile of dirt with the ferocity of a soccer champ. I gave her a bowl of popcorn today to distact her, while I admit I was using the TV as a babysitter and she decieded to throw it all into the air while yelling, "Snow, Mommy, Snooooow! Looook!"
Stop smiling and thinking it was cute. I had just finished vacuuming for the second time today.
I finally took a break to pee. I forgot that all good mothers must have colostomy bags pinned to their sides because in the time it took me to get to the half bath on the same level as the living room, do my business and get back again, she had managed to find a box of dog cookies (we don't own a dog) and a package of Mr. Noodles and scrunch the whole works of it up, all over the floor, couch, love seat and chair. I am seriously going to rent her out to farmers to help spread seeds. She is THAT good.
I break out the vacuum. I just about get the chair done when I realize that the Mr. Noodles had made it's way under the cushion. So when I had the seat removed and vacuumed I noticed out of the corner of my eye, Bridget has taken off every stitch of her clothes and is standing in the front doorway, talking to neighbors. Naked as a Jay Bird.
I wrangle her back into the living room, put the diaper, pants, shirt, socks and sneakers back on her.
I start the couch. Which by the way is where the Lost Caticombs of Egypt must be hidden. I found 3 socks (not a pair involved at all), about a box and half of cheerios, a long given up on jump drive, an old baby bottle, a couple of pieces of left over Hallowe'en candy still in the wrappers, and wonder of wonders, a Salt "N" Peppa CD. Clearly no one has vacuumed under the cushions since 1995.
On the bright side I did find $4.92 in pennies, dimes and nickles. Won't the lady at Tim's be pleased when I show up with that in the morning.
Anyway. Vacuuming the couch requires turning ones back. Which means that Bridget who has recently experienced a growth spurt has now managed to infiltrate the bathroom.... And put a whole roll toilet paper into the toilet, swish it around with the toilet brush and yell, "Soup Mommy, Soup!"
There is no ladle on this earth made for fishing whole soggy rolls of disintergrating toilet paper out of the toilet bowl. I know this for sure.
Anyway,fishing toilet paper out of the toilet also requires turning ones back. The minute I was finished and had wiped everything dry, I went into the living room to discover that Bridgly Gidglette had managed to strip off to the bare buff again, disect the vacuum and spread the contents of the bagless compartmen all over the couch, floor and loveseat.
Anyway. I won't go on. Because really, reliving that 30 minute segment of my day has done nothing more than cause me a massive headache. Oh, and as I type, I can observe from my spot at my desk that my living room looks no better than it did before I started it all, and my todder is yet again stark naked.
So if anyone out there in blogland knows of a cozy rubber room I could inhabit for a few hours, I would greatfully pay to have an uninterrupted nap.
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