Motherhood Can Seem So Futile
Today I took about two minutes to sweep our small kids’ bathroom and put a freshly-washed bath mat down. It’s the only TLC I’ve given the room in awhile and it was badly needed. As in, you could measure the time since my last cleaning by counting the toothpaste strata on the counter.
When I emerged from the bathroom, broom and dustpan in hand, feeling a teensy bit proud of myself for that little effort, I found myself crunching across… what WAS that? OH NO! GRANOLA! Strewn. All. Over. The. Kitchen. Floor.
Worse yet, the perpetrator and the granola container weren’t anywhere in sight. I might have thrown the broom and dustpan down in exasperation as I sprinted into action, hoping against hope, that I could minimize the damage.
DAHHHGH! There sat Little Boy, on the couch surrounded by little piles and sprinkles of granola, empty container in his chubby lap.
It was a far greater mess than the one I had just cleaned up in the bathroom. So what was the point, again?
Now I remember why it only gets cleaned when we’re having company. One of us distracts the kids while the other cleans and then we try to keep them outside until our guests arrive. (Of course that doesn’t work too well in the winter.)
Oh, and I haven’t mentioned the little ant problem we have yet, have I? Oh yes. Little sweet-loving ants have discovered our feast of a house, for Little Boy loves to throw his food on the floor, paint ottomans with peanut butter, and drip beverages out of “spill-proof” cups.
Days months like this make housework seem SO not worth the time.