I pulled the plug and did a thing the other day. It was something I had wanted to do pretty much my entire adult life. I hired two lovely ladies to clean my house.
It wasn’t a decision I took lightly and I had a lot of guilt. Why was I spending money when I could just do it myself?
I sat awkwardly and worked on some writing while the ladies rushed around scrubbing doors, floors, and all sorts of parts of my house that I never seem to get to. After they left (2 ½ hours later) I walked around in awe, admiring their skills. My doors were sparkling and my floors were pristine.
And then, my grandkids arrived to be babysat.
Backpacks, overnight totes, and shoes were dumped in the entryway. My grandson, who plays football every chance he gets, somehow tracked muddy footsteps everywhere, even though he took his shoes off!
I had planned spaghetti for that night’s dinner and the red sauce bubbled and splashed merrily all over the freshly cleaned stove. The spaghetti was served with a crusty French bread and when my grandson was done eating it looked like a rabid wolverine had attacked an unsuspecting loaf of bread. Seriously, there were crumbs on the table, the chairs, the floor and his body. Like his sister always says, “How did you even do that?!”
She had no room to talk however because she unloaded an impressive amount of makeup and beauty items all over the bathroom counter. When I asked her why someone so naturally lovely needed enough skin-care products to supply an Ulta store, she just rolled her eyes and continued laying out more.
After dinner my grandson took a look at the pristine living room and decided it was the perfect spot for a one-person game of war. He ran around diving on furniture, moving tables to hide behind, and he threw throw pillows at imaginary bad-guys (is that why they’re called THROW pillows?). My husband joined the fray and threw a blanket that knocked over a card display.
Then showers were taken and towels were thrown willy-nilly over anything even remotely resembling a drying area. I was happy when my grandson wanted to watch TV on my bed. Apparently, the war in the living room was over. But when I went in later it looked like another fight had broken out on my bed. The bed lost.
I was frustrated and sad. I had wanted to just sit quietly and enjoy the peace that a clean house brings, but that didn’t happen. And then I remembered. This is why I disliked cleaning in the first place – IT NEVER LASTS!
I remember moaning to my husband when my kids were little, “How would you like it if you finished a project at work and someone ran up and tore it to shreds … repeatedly?!!” He was smart enough to just pat me on the back because he knew that there was no answer that would calm me.
Messy houses are a sign of motherhood. They just come with the territory. Sure, I could have run around cleaning up or standing over the kids until they cleaned up every little thing, but I didn’t want to (remember the whole I hate housework thing?).
Instead, I had to change my focus. I had to focus on the kids’ laughter and the joy their antics brought. I had to remember that I did love having them over and I was sad when they weren’t around.
I also had to admit that I am capable of more than my share of mess-making too!
“There is nothing unclean of itself but to him that sees anything unclean, to him it is unclean.” Romans 14:14
I don’t think it’s in the cards for me to have (and keep) a clean house. But I do have a home that’s filled with love and laughter. And hey, my doors are still clean!
“Create in me a clean heart, o God, and renew a right spirit within me.” Psalm 51:10
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Read more of Ann’s contributions to AllMomDoes here.
