What stays and what goes? And what does having a cleaning lady REALLY say about me?

So, we bought a new house.  (Actually, we bought it A YEAR AGO, blogging is harder than I thought)

And then, coincidentally, about a year ago I started watch this CRAZY show on TLC and thinking I was going to end up on an episode of Hoarders.

I could SEE it coming and I couldn't see any way to avoid it.  I was going to BE one of those insano women sobbing hysterically about my inability to part with any of my family's belonging, no matter how gross, busted or useless they are. 

It is the first time since we became a full-fledged family of 4 that we have moved.  With all the STUFF of a family of eight.

So now, we are in the house.

So is our stuff.

All of my stuff

And the Man's STUFF.

And the Monkeys STUFF.

And the Moose's STUFF.

Did I say A lot of our stuff?

OK, so mostly, we bought a new house for our stuff.

And I could not figure out how to make some of the stuff go.  I could not even tell where to begin to purge, because at this point, it ALL seems vital.  Or overwhelming.  Or just TOO MUCH.

I have no idea how this happened. And by "this" I mean- I have no idea how I became the person who amasses with no clue as to how to disperse. I was ALWAYS SO ORGANIZED.   Not NEAT (cause there IS a difference) ORGANIZED.  At least to me. I have spent YEARS amazing the man with my Rain Man-like ability to almost instantly locate the requested item from amongst a seemingly jumbled stack. It would go something like this-

Man " Honey, have you seen my 1986 Cal Ripken Baseball card? I haven't seen it since I packed it for our move to Colorado 3 years ago, but I need it in 20 minutes when I go to the baseball card show, any ideas where I should look?" (separate post to follow about Men and how time works in their world)

Me- " Hold on a sec, babe, let me think a minute... Okay, try looking in the spare bedroom closet, the second box from the left, in a Nike shoebox labeled 'sports' I think "...

Moments later, astonished wonder and adoration on the face of Man as he emerges from the spare bedroom, card in hand.

ORGANIZED.   BOOM

Now fast forward to present day, I cannot tell you if I have on underwear without a quick trip to the bathroom. That is not an exaggeration. I accidentally showed up at a doctors appointment- where I KNEW I would have to do some testing clad only in undergarments- without my knickers on. I really wish I was joking...


But I digress.   This is about The STUFF.  And what it's done to me.


It would be really easy to blame it on the Menagerie. In fact, it's SO easy, it's EXACTLY what I'm going to do!


Here's the thing- I used to be able to find everything. And I used to only buy what I needed. Neither of those things are true anymore. Part of being able to find stuff was that things used to always stay where I put them. Or, if Man put them somewhere else, it was a relatively logical place. (Where would Man leave spare keys? Of course they are on the front side table) Then came Moose and Monkey, who- in addition to RIDICULOUS CUTENESS- tend to defy logic when it comes to product placement. (Where else WOULD you keep the "da caw kees" except inside the surround sound sub-woofer?)

And they have SOOOOO much stuff. SO MUCH STUFF. So ridiculously much stuff.  Stuff I didn't buy them.  They are SO MUCH with the Ridiculous Cuteness, that people just GIVE THEM STUFF.

So Ridiculously MUCH, MINIATURIZED STUFF. 

Do NOT get distracted by the cute sleeping MONKEY- LOOK AT ALL HIS SHIT!

 And it makes people think I'M messy. When, in reality (and by reality, I STILL MEAN IN MY MIND), I am the neat one!  The organized one.  The one who can find all the STUFF.  But now, that is really only true inside my head and mostly as a fading memory.  For all the places OUTSIDE of my head- and I am told these places DO exist- I have Maria. My perfect woman. My Muse. My love.  My housekeeper.  She swoops in every Wednesday and makes all the badness disappear!!!  AND she organizes too!  In a way that OTHER people can see the organization.  And all it costs me is $70.  I don't CARE if that's a lot or a little or anywhere in the between, SO NO COMMENTING ON IT!!!  On Wednesdays, I love her more than both my children and Kit Kats COMBINED, so even if I didn't make ANY money and had to take it out of their college fund, it would STILL be reasonable, as THEY are the reason why I need her in the first place!  It's a good life lesson I am teaching them; if you are the cause of a problem, you should also be the first place people can look for a solution.  Charging them is nothing more than responsible parenting in action**

I never thought I would have one. A Maria.  A woman doing "my job" for me, but then, there a LOTS of things I didn't envision about my life as it currently is.  And since I have to roll with the embarrassment of FORGETTING MY UNDERWEAR, I can also handle the curve ball of  having someone scrub my bathrooms while I work to make the money to pay her to do so.


So the answer is that it ALL stays AND it all goes.

How is that possible?  Well, obviously, I have to keep the Menagerie.  I mentioned the ridiculosity of cuteness, didn't I?  So they stay.

And the Man can stay.  He's the only one I have to talk to about all that stuff they do.  So he's in.  And he's still better the the Menagerie at putting things back in semi-logical places, so there's hope.  Plus, if Hoarders shows up, I will need the requisite co-dependant relationship to explain how I ended up there.

And if I'm keeping all of them, I guess they can keep all their stuff.  I mean, they deserve some sort of payment for the HOURS of entertainment they provide me, so their stuff stays.

And it's not like I'm getting rid of MY STUFF.  After all, It's MINE.  And it was here before them.

So it all stays.  At least what Maria lets us keep.

And here's what goes-

The idea that I can do this all myself.  The idea that being a good mom means that my kitchen is always clean and freshly prepared (by me!)food is always ready at 9 am, noon and 6 pm.  What's gone is my need to be an ideal and instead more of a reality for my children.  I WANT them to know that I struggled with how to give them all that I thought they needed from me while still having enough left for myself.  What goes is the notion that my kids will ever CARE if I was the one who cleaned the house.  They had a home.  It was safe, warm in the winter, cool in the summer and there was food in the fridge.  And once a week, Miss Maria came and made Mommy smile extra big. And if they ever ask, I will tell them I was joking about loving her more than them.  It was more of a crush.  No one could ever replace the twin loves of my life.  At least not without throwing in food preparation.

What a cleaning lady says about me is that I've prioritized my kids above myself, and myself above our stuff.


And now I get to watch Hoarders without losing sleep.  And maybe even with a certain small smugness.  All they needed was a Maria. 








** I don't actually take the Maria money out of their college funds.  YET.

The Parent Trap.

So a while back, I had an epiphany. 

It came while I was attempting to clean up puke off the new couch.

I had already calmed, comforted and cleaned the Monkey, the SOURCE of the puke and I was then attempting to get rid of the grossness, with one of my favorite toys, my Bissell "Little Green Machine" (I will have to devote an entire post to my love of TLGM, but for now, all you need to know is that it is a small hand held steam vac for removing stains.  It is, in a word, ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY BRILLIANT.  A game changer.  Life-and-Stain Alteringly BRILLIANT).

Anyhoo, what TLGM is not is QUIET, as it involves a 2-step process where you spray the offending stain with cleaning solution emitted from the nozzle and then after a few moments, you go back and suck out the solution AND the stain with the other side of the marvelously multi-tasking nozzle.  It is, quite simply, the BEST CLEANING THING EVER.  I would not go so far as to say that I actually prowl the carpet trolling for wayward stains so that I have an excuse to use my best beloved, but I will admit that I HAVE been know to "okay" grape juice in the living room when things get too slow around here.

But I digress.

Sorta.

The thing I need to relay is that while TLGM is small and mighty, it is NOT a stealth device.  Not that my family isn't used to it.  The Moose and the Monkey have come to look upon TLGM with a grudging respect, as its tiny plastic and metal body has pulled their tiny human behinds out of the fire of Mommy wrath a few times.  Moose, in particular, recalls when mommy was speaking in tongues after finding the orange crayon writing on the white carpet.  TLGM protected both her bottom AND her college fund on that day.  Because, yeah, I would've made her pay.

Judge if you want.   There was ORANGE crayon on my WHITE carpet.

So- I turn on my little Green Wunderkind for step one. And the boy starts complaining.  In that weird garbaldy-gook 2-yr old language where I understand none of the WORDS, but the SENTIMENT is clear.  And the sentiment went something like this "Umm, excuse me, woman- but in case you are unaware, I am TRYING to watch television and your attack of cleaning frenzy is interfering with my enjoyment of said activity." In short- he was complaining that I was making too much noise cleaning up his vomit.

And that's when it hit me.

Having kids is a really bad idea.  A game changer. A life and stain alteringly bad idea.

I have to stop here and admit that the above sentence made me stop typing this post for about 3 months. Not because I didn't mean it- because I did.  But I was afraid of what my reader (s) would think of me.  I was afraid no one would read on.  That that sentence would be all that my friends, my family, my menagerie would read.  And it would become my legacy.   


(I got over it.)

It was an incredibly liberating moment.  I had ruined my life by having them.   Think of all the things I LIKED: sleeping, eating out, spending time with friends and reveling in adult conversation & disposable income with the Man.  And it was all over.  And (and this was the kicker) I had done it to myself.  On purpose.  Intentionally.  Had I been so unhappy?  NO!!  I had been REALLY happy.  And, stupid me, I thought adding a couple of really small people who looked like me and my husband (ha!  separate post to follow on that particular falsehood) to the equation would just make things better.

Well, on this particular day, I knew that had been faulty logic. Similar to suggesting that the ONE thing missing from a particularly fantastic ski trip is an ocean view and a pony.  Particularly if you aren't very FOND of your friends ponies and don't really care for water sports.

But THEN we get to the rub-  By the time you figure this out, the people, YOUR PEOPLE are already here!  And by then, you adore them.  And their smells.  And their  garbaldy-gook language. You know the sound of their heartbeat and their laughter is better than sunshine.  And you cannot imagine life without them.  Actually you CAN imagine it, but now the pony has skis and you contemplate doing that polar-bear plunge just so that you can have the fabulous ski trip AND the other stuff.  Because otherwise, the ski vacation is just a... white place.

A game-less, stain-less, life-less white place.

And there's the trap. 

 Having kids is a really bad idea.  A game changer. A life and stain alteringly bad idea.  

The only one worse- for me- is NOT having them.

GRATITUDE...From a most unexpected place

This doesn't start well, but stay with me for a moment, I swear I'm going somewhere good with this.



My kids are spoiled. And self absorbed. They CONSTANTLY interrupt and whine and cry and demand MORE no matter how much I give them. I actually had one of mine complain (during cold and flu season) that I was making too much noise cleaning up his vomit.

Seriously, it happened. Not really the point of this post, but it DID happen.

I have had moments where I compare them to leaches, just sucking the very life blood from my body. But even THAT sometimes seems to mild to explain they way they have decimated the ME in my life. I know all the Mamas feel me. You give, and give and give....BLAH, BLAH, BLAH...

And then, 3 days ago, Man and I were doing a nightly recap of all things familia, after the menagerie had finally gone to sleep. For us, this almost always takes place on the couch about ten minutes before we go upstairs and fall into a deep coma-like sleep. This past week has been a little extra crazy for us; work, sick kids (and their parents), lots of other commitments that we were trying to figure out how to manage. As the primary caregiver, I was telling funny stories about the things that Monkey and Moose had done said during the day. But I was also lamenting about not enough hours, not enough freedom, not enough of ME to go around, as it was all about them and they wouldn't just give me FIVE MINUTES to sit down-

Well, they let me sit but then, they BOTH wanted to sit ON me, which is kinda not the point.

I was judging myself for failing to execute ANY of my many jobs successfully and I was feeling judged. By my mother, my boss, Monkey's daycare provider... I think I had even decided that my cleaning lady thought I was a bad person based on the state my kitchen gets into in the six days between her visits...

Anyhoo, I have both CNN and USA Today updates that pop up on my phone, so does the Man, and just then, both our phones "dinged", alerting us that the verdict was in on the trial of a monster who had done horrible things to innocents. And not just any innocents. Children who were already struggling. Children who had already seen too much, lost too much, suffered too much. This monster prayed on the very most vulnerable among us and he did it under the guise of aid. I don't need to go into any more detail, as we've all seen this tragedy unrolling before us over the last year, but I will say that these boys have been on my brain. Even more so as I know boys the ages that the victims were and I cannot bear to think of any of them in the situations that were described. I pray for their healing and hope that this verdict has brought them some measure of peace. And I also pray that this leads to more parents opening dialogue. More adults, who believe children when they reach out. And less protection for the sickness that is is the minds of the abusers.

So we started talking about the Monster for a moment and then we started to go back to talking about our menagerie and I was knocked sideways by an epiphany.

My epiphany was this-GRATITUDE. I am so grateful for my selfish, spoiled, demanding, obnoxious children. I am so happy that they never fear asking for more, that they cannot even comprehend a world in which they are not cherished and adored. I LOVE that they rush to me with every hurt, be it feelings or paper cuts. I am overjoyed by the fact that I must arbitrate in every slight, be it real or imagined. I am so thankful that they are so comfortable and safe with their position in the world that it never occurs to them to huddle and shy away from asking for what they need- for more than they need. So damn grateful am I that all of those who touch their little lives give them that same attention. And I am so proud of the women and men in my life who are doing the same with their own marvelous, equally spoiled, obnoxious and demanding miracles. You are doing a fantastic fucking job. Your children feel safe enough, loved enough, adored enough to be the most irritating children EVER (at least that's how they feel in that moment!)

GOOD FUCKING JOB PARENTS.

And I get that they will one day have to learn that there is so much to be wary of in the world. I understand that there are lessons, big and small, that the world will teach them, and not all these lessons will be fun. But for right now, I am FILLED with gratitude for every day that passes when they want to be entertained from waking to sleeping. I am thankful for every time it is clear that they are completely oblivious to how close their Mother is to losing it if she has to play one more game of Old Maid. Or hear "HE STARTED IT!" even one more time.... Because it means one more day when I have kept them safe. Because that means I'm doing my job. And their continued obnoxiousness is the best performance review I could ever ask for.

Good Fucking Job Mommy.

I should also take a minute to say, that they aren't ALWAYS super obnoxious. Only on days that end in "y"