15 minute bliss

Twice a month I get to enjoy about 15 minutes of Pine-Sol-infused bliss: the 15 minutes immediately following my house keeper completing the monumental challenge that is cleaning my house.

That I'm a stay-at-home mom AND have someone come ‘roudnd to clean up after us is embarrassing, but it's my reality. I am a neat-freak at heart, yet sadly my husband and children don't share my love for a germ and clutter-free environment.

Surely the most absurd piece of the puzzle is how frantically I do clean the house before the cleaner herself comes over.

“Babe, why are we cleaning the house before Evelyn comes?”

“Look at how filthy this place is! I can't have her see that we live like this!”

Really, it makes sense, no?

I justify the massive amount of time I block out each cleaning day as “tidying” rather than “cleaning”. I pay my dear, sweet Evelyn to clean the house. I don't want a second wasted on shelving toys and books, nor do I think she should be paid to put away the golf equipment and weights that migrate their way into the house.

My Evelyn, the cleaning fairy, just left. And not five minutes later I also see Middle Man has finished his snack.

Really, it would just be easier if I lit cash on fire rather than go through the charade that is keeping a clean house. Because let's be honest: having a professional clean your house when you still have kids makes about as much sense as hiring a personal trainer yet eat nothing but Twinkies for breakfast, lunch and dinner.