Well, I’m usually clean. The good news is, my kitchen has been clean for over 24 hours.
I decided yesterday that since I could not, in fact, keep my house clean as long as Laylee and Magoo were still residing in it, I could pick the one room I can control and set it up as a fortress of clean.
When we use a dish, it goes straight in the dishwasher. When we make a crumb, we wipe it up. When Magoo finishes a meal in a fantastic display of doneness by sweeping the contents of his tray onto the floor, I wipe the floor before declaring breakfast finished.
The strangest thing has happened. When the kitchen and dining room are clean, the rest of the house sort of maintains itself at a low-boil of play-time catastrophe. Dan reminded me that the kids are old enough to help and I’ve brought mean motherhood to a new level by having them clean with me several times a day before they move onto the next activity.
Magoo likes it so much that he’s been dumping out baskets, saying “Uh-Oh” and cleaning them up just for fun.
The freeze has subsided. Dan is back at work. The Christmas decorations are up and I want a dumbwaiter. Seriously. Do you remember the dumbwaiter they had on Webster? I want one in the worst way. I’ve even figured out a place where it would fit. We just need to annex the coat closet downstairs and the linen closet upstairs. They’re directly in line with each other as though the builder was leaving space for an optional pulley system.
I am also looking to hire someone to stand at the top of the stairs, unload the dumbwaiter and put all of the things away. Send references to email@example.com.
This afternoon Dan and I will be taking Laylee to see the Pacific Northwest Ballet production of the Nutcracker. Heads will explode. I won’t be surprised if she shrieks in ecstacy at inappropriate places. I will cry. I always cry. When I hear good live music, I cry. Dave Matthews, Dave Brubeck, the Broadway Beauty and the Beast. They all made me cry. The Backstreet Boys also made me cry but for a different reason.