I’ve learned a lot of things since staying home with Tom full-time.
1. Huck likes to take 12-hour long naps during the day and he’s really annoyed we’re home.
2. Emergency vehicles seem to be called to my neighborhood once a week.
3. I still can’t get the occupants of a rented home down the street to wave back to me.
4. Huck REALLY HATES a little, tiny neighbor dog. Really tiny. Really hates.
5. Our house in dirty.
(Just to name a few.)
Today I’m going to focus on #5.
Because I have no idea if it’s really dirty because we’re home more, or if it’s always been really dirty and I’m just now noticing.
(Please be the former!)
On New Year’s Day, Kevin bought me a portable, light-weight vacuum that I could keep upstairs.
He said, “Are you going to be mad I bought you this?”
I said, “No!! I LOVE it!!! I LOVE you!!! Yay!”
He was happy that buying me a vacuum on the first day of the new year was well received, despite the warning he received from the check-out clerk.
So…I use the upstairs vacuum every day.
And every day it picks up at lot of dirt, dog hair, Kate hair and dust.
I love that it has the window in front so I can check how much dirt I got. Isn’t that weird and/or gross?
I can’t help it. I love it.
(Maybe I should get out more. I hear drinks with friends can also be lovable.)
The point is, I just got this vacuum and I can promise you that I didn’t lug our big vacuum upstairs every day. Probably not even every week. Maybe I only vacuumed upstairs if I knew someone was coming over. And maybe that someone needed to be someone who wasn’t related to us. And maybe they also needed to be someone we were just getting to know so we were still trying to impress them with our friendship and clean rugs. So maybe I hardly ever did that because everyone knows I keep friends forever so I don’t need to invite new people over.
I do more dishes now because we are home more and because now Tom eats real food. Like a man. Or wo-man. (No really, he ate an entire slice of pizza the other day + I usually eat one slice of pizza = Tom eats as much as me.)
I do a lot of laundry. More than before. The only thing I can say about this is that I think I’m washing sheets and blankets and stuff I thought I could get away with not washing as often. Now I am.
This dirtiness has shocked me.
Like…I thought my house was clean before. Now I’m cleaning it a lot more.
So, were we dirty before?
But I prefer to blame the baby for the sudden onslaught of dirt and dishes. I blame Tom for the dog hair.
Don’t worry about proving it, just know he’s totally responsible.
So I make him help me with the chores.
Tom throws silverware in the trashcan for me so I don’t have to wash them. He hides his sippy cups under the coffee table and couch so they can’t be washed.
One time he hid a spoon in his shirt. Unfortunately for Tom I am the kind of mother who notices when her son has a sudden 4-inch protrusion coming out of his chest, so it was quickly caught. But I know he was trying to help.
He helps with the laundry by pulling out and then putting back in pairs of underwear and socks. Over and over and over and infinity. Sometimes he flings a little baby sock behind the dryer, where I pretend it dissolves.
And sometimes, when Tom is wearing his special pair of fleece pants, he crawls around and picks up a ton of dirt and dog hair for me with his pants.
He is the best helper.
I’m thinking about making him a chore chart.
I can’t wait to see what he comes up with to help me clean the toilets.