You would think that I am OCD about cleanliness, which caused this behavior. That he has seen me cleaning and is doing what he has learned is normal. The thing is, he very well might be the cleanest one in the house most days (My husband would win that competition every time, but he works a lot). If it’s just me with the kids in the house, you can bet at least one room looks like a tornado spun through.
I hate cleaning, but sadly, I also hate living in filth. With the kids all over the place, touching everything, dumping every bin of toys and demanding all of my time, I am never caught up on the cleaning.
My biggest challenge is the sink and it’s never-ending tower of dishes. I clean everything and run the dishwasher. I am so happy I can see the bottom of the sink, and then I make dinner and fill it up again. And since the dishwasher is full of clean dishes that I don’t have time to put away, the dirty stuff overflows out of the sink to the surrounding counters. Then the kids go to bed and I don’t want to wake them up clinking dishes. Then I go to bed. Then we come downstairs in the morning to a disaster that makes me want to move out. It’s the same thing every day.
The other problem is the laundry. There is always laundry. I do manage to get it all folded in a timely fashion but then it sits in baskets until I need to do more laundry and I don’t have an empty basket to carry it downstairs.
Between the laundry and the dishwasher, my husband says we are doing a good job at emptying out the local reservoir. He’s probably right.
Maybe Mr. Man will continue his love of cleaning and move on to the dusting I never do, or he could mop the kitchen floor, which I don’t do nearly often enough. Then again, he is currently sitting on the play table trying to draw on his belly with a Magna Doodle pen. It might be a while until he is actually useful.