Why Bother Cleaning?

You know, I ask myself this question a lot. Like today, for instance. I mopped my kitchen floor, closed the baby gate, turned on the ceiling fan for a quicker dry-time and busied myself elsewhere in the house. Fifteen minutes later, I walked in, relishing the clean floor, the invigorating aroma of fresh, clean floor, and the idea, that, for just that instant, I could actually eat off my floor. Then the trouble begins. In toddles my 14 month old, with a thick line of drool from his chin down to his sneakers. Followed by the dog, who, after giving a disinterested sniff at the drool that has now reached the floor, strides right through it. Now drool, as a rule, is not THAT gross. Unless, of course, it's post-snack drool, but in this case, it wasn't, so I wasn't all that upset. Nothing a paper towel couldn't handle. But this happens all the time. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING stays clean in my house for any more than an instant - unless I put up enough baby gates so my house resembles the Panama Canal. And then you hear little voices screaming "Mommy, let me out!" But I have to clean, right? So I think I've reached a monumental observation: I don't clean to make things CLEAN. I clean so that they're not dirty. I mean filthy. I think I'm beginning to realize that if I don't relax my standards a LITTLE, I'm going to go nuts, so there it is. You come to my house, you might see some crumbs under the couch - which reminds me - last week, I actually pulled out the couch and vacuumed behind it - and I swear there was food under there from all 4 food groups. But I digress --- where was I? You come to my house, there will be crumbs, there will be dust, there will be smeared drool on the kitchen floor. There will be handprints on every window that extends down under 3 feet. That's my life right now - I'm through expecting perfection from myself. Maybe Mark will get me Merry Maids for Christmas? Yeah, right!