Two days ago I wrote a blog called 5 Tricks To Get You Through The Day which was a five-point plan for survival at home with small kids: Tea, Radio, Podcasts, Loud Music and Wine (not necessarily in that order). One of my friends commented that one of her tricks is to squirt bleach down the toilets to give the overall feeling of having cleaned the entire house. To her, wiping boys’ wee off toilet seats restores a sense of calm. On the same day I read this fantastic Peter and Jane post about the state of Mummy’s car. I feel it. Three days ago a Petit Filous was tipped upside down into the drinks/coin holder between the front seats where it is currently cultivating. A while back I thought I was having a bad day: leaky milk bottle in school bags, wee in the car seat until, at tea time, the sprinkles exploded.
I sometimes clean the entire house using just baby wipes. This is particularly true if visitors are unexpectedly coming.
No matter how many times I tidy up, there is always an adult male sock somewhere on the living room carpet.
I once found Sesame Street’s Beaker lurking in my knicker drawer. To be honest, he looked more surprised than I did.
My entire house used to be a car park. Sinks were ramps, taps were car washes, kitchen drawers were garages, windowsills were speedways. This has all thankfully ended now.
It’s now Jurassic Park.
Like a catastrophic game of Kerplunk, the BUBs love to ‘play’ with dried spaghetti, in an unauthorised attack on my sanity.
Whenever I clear the car of toys, tissues, wrappers and rubble in preparation for a clean, Mr Potato Head and his many accroutrements will sneak in.
I once had to surgically remove a pair of meerkats from a beaker.
You know you’ve come unstuck when you have to use baby wipes to wipe the packet of baby wipes that have become suspiciously sticky.
What happens when men tidy up is you find a screwdriver in your knicker drawer.
After months of delay, I cleaned my bag out. I put the bugger through the washing machine. The next day a packet of Walkers French Fries emptied into the pocket. Five days later it was still there.
BUT…whenever the state of the house gets too much, I remember the day BUB.3 returned from her first morning at preschool. She ran in and hugged the walls.