Every night before I head to bed I clean my house.  There is something both therapeutic and OCD about my evening ritual; however truth be told, I just can’t sleep knowing that there is a mess lurking downstairs.  While I would love to clean during the day, there is just no sense in trying because my kids are just mini-tornadoes, undoing my efforts and leaving in their path a wake of destruction.  So I wait until I have put my toddler to bed and the boys are winding down for the night.  Then I get started.  Usually it’s not too major an endeavor, a quick sweep of the hardwood floors, a pass or two with the vacuum, and a quick wipe-down of both the kitchen and bathroom – but it’s just enough to take my anxiety level down a few notches and make everything look presentable.  I go to bed feeling fairly relaxed and accomplished only to wake up in the morning and think – what the heck happened while I was sleeping?  There are dust bunnies rolling across the floor like tumbleweeds – thanks in part to our dogs who are currently shedding like crazy.  Our yellow lab has managed to climb up on the sofa and displace every existing pillow right onto the floor.  The kids, who are usually up before me already have toys pulled out and all over.  And somehow, very magically, dishes have appeared in my sink that were not there the night before.  I stand there and think – I just cleaned this house not less that 8 hours ago – how? why?  Oh wait, I have three children, two dogs and a cat – the house is supposed to look like a bomb went off in it….. but – to anyone who asks, “I swear I just cleaned my house.”

P.S.  My husband’s biggest offense is toothpaste in the bathroom sink – otherwise he is relatively blameless in this whole mess making situation – just don’t look on his side of the bed…

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