The boys are drinking their bedtime milk from champagne flutes. I’m not Hyacinth Bouquet and the champagne flutes are in fact plastic and for the record, I don’t actually know how they got to be in our house. But our dishwasher has not read its job description and has broken down for the umpteenth time this week, leaving a kitchen which resembles the leaning tower of Pisa with a conservatory built on the back.
Yes, I know I could wash up and I have, but it`s the pile that keeps giving and I am now tempted to test the hair washing theory, the one where you don’t wash your hair for months and then it self cleans and you are left with the glossiest of manes, hopefully it applies to plates boasting congealed remnants of lunches gone-by.
In my most fantastical of dreams, my house resembles one on Wisteria Lane, (possibly Bree’s) pristine and smelling of freshly baked goods and exotic flowers, unfortunately real life is the stuff of nightmares and is much more hysteria than wisteria and smells of burnt and wee thanks to two boys who find it hilarious to aim for the sky rather than the bowl . But for some excruciatingly dull reason, I am always stressing about it. Always. I feel like I am constantly cleaning and tidying up a la ground hog day, but to no avail. I know two small children doesn’t help the mix, but I think it´s me, I think I’m just not very good at the whole cleaning malarkey. When my house is spotless and shiny (in my eyes) it probably looks like a before shot on How clean is your house?
Thankfully, my children don’t share this worry and if it was up to them, this is how they would maintain that “we live in the movies” look.
Spilt drink on the floor
Grab nearest item off clothes horse (big socks work really well) and rub half-heartedly until it’s slippy, but you can’t see it. If you are pernickety and want to dry it, then use a skirt or dress, usually found on radiator. It gives it a nice glean and a magazine finish.
No need to worry about mountains of clothes to be washed, just turn top/ trousers around and then inside out – magic. You instantly have 4 wears out of said garment, and nobody will notice it’s the same as each new stain and mark will add a certain “where did he get that?” envy to it.
Don’t bother picking up food that’s fallen off your plate, it’s always good to have snacks to hand 24/7, there is nothing tastier than a 3 (
week) day old fishfinger or bean.
Lego must be left strewn on the floor at all times, no matter where it is. At all times.
Collect as many as you possibly can, hoard them. It’s all about plastic, the brighter and noisier, the better. Never throw or give anything away, you can never have too many broken kinder surprise toys. If there are complaints, just brush them under the sofa; nobody ever looks there anyway.
Just last week, we were at the doctors looking at a very glossy magazine, with pictures of houses I think I should probably live in, and O pointed at an exquisitely gorgeous pristine house with an exquisitely clean family standing in front of it. “Why are they so grumpy?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “Is it because they haven’t got a sandpit?” he said scouring the photos, shaking some sand out of his hair.
Evidently, sparkling cleanliness = grumpiness and misery. In that case, I say bring on the dirt and the huge grubby faced smiles. Always.