Monday, August 19, 2013

tornados of laundry and other such housewifely things


it's becoming abundantly clear that "weekend" is code for "disaster" in this house. except for that one weekend where things were unaccountably smooth and drama free, our weekends as a family are akin to bad weather. f3 tornados, i lovingly call them.

despite the fact that friday's cool, good-mood inducing weather had me believing we were in for a snuggly, feel-good, romcom of a weekend, it was, as is often the case recently, the woody allen of romcoms. everything was a bit off, and there was neither a respectable amount of romance or comedy.

i knew we were in for it when on saturday morning loverboy announced there was a dead animal of some indeterminately largish size in the crawl space that is accessible through our closet, just outside of which our sweet baby was napping. 400 dollars or maybe 2000 to come clean it up! said the animal exterminator on the phone. do it yourself! said the diy pest control place down the road (fancy that). mom and dad come help! said loverboy. yay! said i, as i eyed the mound of laundry, pile of dirty dishes and a wee patch of rug just visible underneath the new-always-off-season-midsummer-shedding layer of lars' fur. i would like to take a moment to say: my dog is molting. like a bird. it is seriously mangy. the clumps of fur i find around the house could bed a whole host of rodents. he especially likes to molt in the nursery. yay.

excuse me while i forget how to talk abut anything other than this house and this baby for awhile. i'm in the middle of a new motherhood/home-owning crisis right. you should know, i was going to write an incredibly creative, entertaining post about this weekend, filled with humor and peppered with woody allen references, but instead, i'm here to say this weekend was crap and woody allen. brilliant, aren't i?

suffice it to say, my crisis is manifesting as a crazy cleaning person. i feel like the tasmanian devil, whirling madly around the house, looking for my sanity inside washing machines and dishwashers. and i know. i know i have no one to blame but myself. i know that i'm supposed to just let everything around me go to rot while i stare at my lovely baby. people keep telling me to ignore the mess, spend time with my baby, get to it later...but when? in 8 months? 15 years? when is it that you can clean? and also, when is it that you can stop cleaning? it's like as soon as things are relatively tidy, everyone needs to dirty some dishes/clothes/diapers because it's time to eat again. i find myself making lists of things to clean, because i can't keep up with the insane cleaning woman in my head that keeps reporting new things it's spotted that need my instant attention.

i used to be a master procrastinator. i studied for finals around midnight, the night before. i wrote my wedding vows in like fifteen minutes. heck, i applied for college the day applications were due! but these days, i am incapable of ignoring the laundry or dishes for a day. (to be fair, our baby's butt would be bare if i did, and we're limited on counter space as it is, so...)

i actually left the house sunday during wilder's nap time to try to find some peace and sanity, only to end up at target buying things like bleach, fabric softener and dishwashing detergent! and that was after a million loads of laundry, dishes and vacuums of the carpet! holy mother of cleanliness!! where does it end?! i'm pretty sure i birthed 10 pounds of laundry along with this baby.

to top it all off, we only got to lie our lightweight, mostly flat, side-sleeping little selves down on 8 mattresses. nowhere near the epic mattress-buying adventure i'd planned. i should be happy there were any mattresses at all, though, what with the cyclone that took over my weekend. maybe i need one of those vacuum robots. don't you love buster bluth? he's my favorite.

and that is all. about time, huh?

in the eye of the storm:



  1. I swear, you get more beautiful and your baby gets more un*bear*ably adorable in every. single. picture. Even when he's crying and your weekend is a disaster. I love you. And your baby bear.

  2. I'm so behind on blog-reading - finally catching up! This made me laugh in a most empathetic way. I've always felt the same way. Yes, of course I'd like to devote every waking moment to spending quality time with my child, but I'd also like to not live in a landfill of dirty dishes/laundry/etc. :)

  3. I vote yes! You NEED a robot vacuum. Love!