Please understand, I love a clean house. I think there are few greater pleasures in life than getting into a comfy bed with crisp, clean sheets. The way freshly vacuumed carpet feels under bare feet is mind blowing. When I walk into my house after I've dusted and cleaned all the floors, the smell of clean instantly puts me in a better mood. I'm a freak. Yes. I'm also a bit of a germaphobe so I do keep things clean.
All that being said, I hate cleaning...a lot. And 'cleaning' while P-man is around is even more trying. I use 'cleaning,' because it has a whole new meaning with a toddler attached at the heels. Cleaning with Patrick around is tedious, illogical and just plain idiotic! The term two steps forward one step back, is an understatement. Really, it's not cleaning. It's picking up toys off the floor and putting them on any available surface just long enough to clean the floor underneath. I have approximately 45 seconds after picking up an item to clean underneath before said item will return to it's proper place in the middle of the living room or be replaced by another (undoubtedly larger) item.
Case in point, this morning I tried to clean my fridge. Of course Patrick had to help.
proceeded by...
After safely cleaning up the broken glass, he of course had to 'help' me mop the floor.
In the end, my fridge and floors got cleaned. I would live in a pig sty for the rest of my life if it meant my little man was happy. It's easy to get frustrated and forget it's sooo worth it :) While I do wish my house would stay clean for more than 45 seconds, I wouldn't trade for anything...
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