My Not-So-Secret Identity
Now, before you start asking me why I'm typing instead of scrubbing, let me assure you: this is the calm before the storm. Or rather, this is me taking a few moments before addressing The Aftermath, which is the result of Kiddo being home sick for two days and my usual jobs being put off.
Why put off the jobs when he is sick? Well, if you want to know the desperate truth, it is this: after most of the year of having contractors around the house and a little boy making messes everywhere, I want to be able to complete a few chores and have those areas looking nice for at least a couple hours before crumbs begin to hit the flooragain, before three loads are folded and the pile of clothes delivered to his room is met with an "awwww.... I hate putting it away" (just wait until you are eight and get the privilege of learning how to do it!). I need the quiet so I can crank up a cd loud and scrub the bathroom, wiping away the toothpaste spatter from the wainscoting and scrubbing the shower and tub with the sharp, pungent smell of vinegar and water.
Kiddo wants to earn a dollar vacuuming the bathroom this afternoon, which is highly necessary. Yesterday I'd done some digging with my pants rolled up and before sprinting out the door in the evening, I unrolled the cuffs, only to deposit an acre of topsoil on the Marmoleum. Most was cleaned up, but between the bit that was pushed to the side plus the hair-- all the hair-- on the floor, it is a must for today. If Kiddo decides not to do it, I will, and I will pay myself with a nice glass of ale, thank you. Yes, I rate more for pay than the kid does, but I do an awesome and thorough job of vacuuming, if I do say so myself. I actually get the walls and corners where the spiders set up shop, spinning their webs and leaving the cobwebs behind like ephemeral ruins, destined to be gone so quickly.
Let's not even discuss the yardwork that's calling me. At least the zinnias still look good. Last night a neighbor friend stopped us on the way to the pub and told me that she had been planning to leave me a note. "I walk past your house all the time and I just wanted to thank you for your garden. " Wow! It only motivates me to get out there a bit more often...
But for now, work to do, a radio to crank up. Dishes in the sink are muttering at me from last night, acting like surly neglected children. The house-wide dirty laundry call comes first, getting a load started is of utmost importance. We all like clothes--- at least, it's the law around these parts. Plus, there's dinner to think about..... the work of a stay at home mom is never done, but I might take pictures of the clean areas, just to remind myself that it really, truly happened.