Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Mother's Little Helper

OK, I admit it, I am a terrible housekeeper. Although I can prepare a five course spread that looks like the Pioneer Woman herself just moved into my kitchen, the daily nuances of domestic science are still exactly that... A CHORE.

"I will gladly pay someone to do this work..." I say to Kim, dreading the laundry pile that needs folding."Why can't every house have a live in maid like Alice? Look how effortlessly the Brady house ran...and with six kids."

"Because you won't want to pay what someone would charge to remove your clothes from the end of the bed everyday," Kim says.

She is right, that is what I would consider an unnecessary expense, but after a full day of serving patients the last thing I want to do is come home and get right back to work. I don't need my slippers waiting at the front door and a glass of red wine next to my chair... well, that would be nice... but you get my point. All I want is a chance to sit down with my feet up.

To combat my own house cleaning inadequacy, I try to continuously throw in small efforts like swirling the toilet brush around the bowl after I flush. It helps keep the orange ring away. Senia Mae must have witnessed me do this because recently the toilet brush has gone from being naturally unsanitary (it does go in a toilet) to completely defiled.

The last few times I brushed the bowl I did notice some dried up pieces of paper on the bristles but thought nothing of it because I was already mentally tackling the next item on my never ending to do list. Yesterday I looked down from the throne and saw crusty brown remnants intricately woven throughout the once white and grey colored bristles. This is the part of parenting that gets a little... yicky.

"Senia Mae," I called out, trying to compose myself before she arrived in the bathroom. She bounded in, covered in her fleece footy pajamas, her face glowing and full of life. "Have you been trying to help Mama clean the toilet?"

"Yes," she said with a slight lisp. Her beaming expression indicated that she was mighty proud of herself for giving a helping hand... I didn't want to squash her spirit.

"I sure appreciate you helping clean the toilet... but there is one really important step you have to follow." I said carefully.

"What is it?" she asked innocently.

"Well, you have to make sure you flush all the stuff down the toilet BEFORE you use the toilet brush... or else it gets really dirty like this." I tried not to gag as I held the brush to show her.

"Oh, OK." she said.

"But thank you for being Mommy's little helper... I really appreciate it." I tried to put a positive spin on a disgusting lesson before she skipped off.

"Mama, I like to help you..." and she ran out the door, her little mind onto the next big thing.

As I placed the soiled toilet brush into a trash bag, hoping that we all wouldn't come down with a case of eColi, I said out loud, but mostly for myself to hear, "This is the EXACT reason this family needs PROFESSIONAL help!"