I abhor cleaning in all its forms. My philosophy of life has always been that I'd rather be out doing something with my kids than at home cleaning. The dishes can wait, Kate wants me to read a story. The floors can be spot cleaned in twenty seconds because Anna wants me to play with her dolls. The dusting can suck it because it's a glorious day outside so we're going to the park. The bathroom is grimy but there is a good movie to go see. So I have lived my life. The last time we moved my ex was going through the garage stuff, picked up the Bee Mop and innocently (?) said, "Should we just throw this out? We don't use it anyway." To which I replied indignantly, "You don't use it, but I do!" In reality I'd probably used it three times since I bought it. And my house is proof of that. Holy shit, there is dust everywhere I look and just when I've wiped down one surface, I look around at the 99 other surfaces that need to be cleaned. This fucking sucks. I'm taking a break from being on my hands and knees to thoroughly clean my floors to write this but I'm shuddering at the thought that I need to clean the bathroom soon. Worst job ever.
This state of affairs is not entirely my fault. When I was a stay-at-home mom, my house was a lot cleaner, after all, it was my job to clean and cook and take care of the babies. I didn't mind that, I may not have been contributing monetarily to the household, but I had a role and a job to do. And I did it gladly. But when I went back to work full-time and started classes up again, damned if I was going to spend my evenings and weekends mopping the fucking floor! My ex felt the same way and I don't blame him for that either. Just the way it was. We talked about getting a cleaning service but you can imagine who's job it was to arrange that and I never got around to it.
I doubt I'm the only one with a dirty house. Many times I've heard, "We should have people over more often just so the house gets cleaned." The problem really lies in that most women do not feel they are doing their job properly if their house isn't sparkly, their careers aren't envious, their kids aren't perfect and their husbands aren't happy. Why do we put that pressure on ourselves? I felt guilty every minute I was sitting down. Not anyone's fault but my own, I put that guilt on myself but it's hard to shake. Somehow, even if it kills us, we have to be superwomen and do it all. In the measly 24 hours allotted to us each day. No wonder no one gets enough sleep.
Now that I find myself on my own, I feel a lot less guilt about the state of my house. No one but me to care if it's clean. The kids certainly don't give a shit. I'm only cleaning it now because we're getting ready to put it on the market. I could not care less if it was actually clean. And I'm taking the kids skating this afternoon whether that fucking bathroom is clean or not.