and the bewitching hour is upon me. For once I have dinner in the oven and the girls "set the table." I've instigated the "get out of the kitchen until dinnertime" rule, but it's kinda lost on the fact that every house in Florida (including mine) has an uber-open floor plan. Man, would I love a bonus room.
Today I had these wonderful ladies come and deep clean my house. You know, stuff you (I hope, like me!) never get to do like baseboards, windowsills, floors, bathrooms, and changing bed sheets. (Did I just say that out loud?). Just joking - I do all those except the baseboards and windowsills. The others are on an "I can't stand the filth anymore" basis. Ian's mom and his Aunt Susan really have their work cut out for them in getting me up to speed on house cleaning and care. It's just not in my genes (no offense, Mom and Dad). My mom always says that we may not be good cleaners or pet owners, but we can people alive really well. First things first, right?!
Anyway, I was totally worried about offending the cleaning ladies by the state of my house. It's ridiculous. And every time someone comes to clean (like twice a year) I find myself apologizing profusely and giving them the rundown of how hard it is to keep a house with little kids. Blah blah blah. Really I just want them to tell me, "Oh gosh, your house doesn't look bad! Believe me, I've seen WAAAAAAY worse." Then they would go on to tell me that all the other houses they've cleaned in the neighborhood are rat holes.
Comparison may be the thief of joy, but just once I think it might make me feel a lot better.