Here goes nothing

Here goes nothing. I say it every Monday. The day I have to clean and scrub the shit out of the house. But it is all for nothing, because I am the only person in this house, it would seem, that doesn't like living in a fucking pig sty.

But alas, I do it. Every Monday. I start with the dishes that have piled up since Friday or Saturday, whenever I last washed them. Even though this it is Mark's job to wash only the dinner dishes, I somehow still manage to get stuck with them.

While the dishes take a quick soak, it is out to the garage to do the laundry. I swear I do laundry every other day. Which brings me to a thought: Dirty dishes and laundry are like the fucking Gremlins, in that when you add water, they multiply.

Then after the dishes are done, and the laundry is washing, I take a walk through the house in search of trash/recycling that somehow never made it into the garbage can. However, I usually find more dirty dishes and more dirty laundry.

Blah blah blah...this cleaning bull shit goes on until about 12:00 noon when Robert finally gets sleepy and takes a half hour nap. A FREAKING HALF HOUR! I sometimes want to give him drugs that'll make him sleep longer so I can empty bathroom trash cans, make beds, find even more dirty dishes and even more dirty laundry, but I think that most people would frown upon that. Even if I were to fall asleep with him, I would be crabby as shit for only getting 30 minutes and not the 2 hours desperately need.

So after Robert takes a little power nap, and I am either a.) a raging bitch or b.) exhausted and ready for a nap which I can't take. Which quite depresses me. Even more so when I look around and realize that the floors need to be swept and mopped, rugs need vacuuming, clean clothes need to be folded and put away, clean dishes also need to be put away, and more importantly, I need to come up with an idea for dinner. However, this usually gets pushed to 5 minutes before I need to make dinner.

Then three o'clock rolls around and it is time to pick up Madison from school. A snack needs to be ready the minute she walks in the door, or else a full blown tantrum will ensue. After her snack has been devoured, homework must be done, Robert needs to have the crayons taken out of his hands and I stare miserably at the new art work I have acquired on the wall. After homework has been completed, M must practice her sight words, while I try to keep R from eating said words. Then, we have to read. Not much, just a few pages. This however takes a good 45 minutes because R is hitting M, R is hitting Jake, M is melting down because all she wants to do is relax and watch TV, or R decides that since M is crying, he should start up, too.

Once everyone is calm and all academic tasks are completed, I scramble, as mentioned earlier, to quick think of something that 1 picky eater will eat, and that the other, who doesn't eat, will at least try something.

Then I look in the mirror...and quickly run in fear when the tired, disheveled woman looks back at me, because obviously I am gorgeous and didn't actually go out in public looking so busted.

After an unsuccessful dinner, I realize that the clothes haven't been folded and put away, the floors haven't been swept and mopped, there are still clean dishes in the drying rack and I still look like shit.

I get no pay for my work, no thanks, mostly a snotty attitude from M, mostly crabbiness from R, and too much forgetfulness from Mark.

But I do get occasional snuggles from M, occasional kisses from R, a roof over my head, food in my belly and boundless love thanks to Mark. Thank you honey, for giving me the only job i seem to know how to do and have stayed at the longest of any job I've ever had.

I wear my Busted Housewife badge with pride!