I am a horrible housewife. (That statement is causing my mother to hang her head in dismay as she reads this) I am just not a tidy person. I am okay with living in a little bit of clutter. And I just do not have a bookoodle amount of time to clean my house.
If you come over, just ignore the fact that my house is NOT spick and span. And it wont get any better either. The more kids I have, the worse it will be. I can already feel it. Mom, you may just want to steer clear of this place all together in a few years. :)
Oddly enough, the playroom is the one room in the house that I HAVE to keep clean. My sanity depends on it. I don't know why, but if I walk by and see toys laying on the floor, I must pick them up. And if Z is playing, I clean up around him. I just don't like that room being messy.
Leave it to me to clean the one room that people don't even see when they come in our house. I am some kind of crazy.
Anyway. The other morning, as I walked down the hallway, I saw the playroom looking like this...
I about had a heart attack. It took everything that was in me to walk away from the room and go fix my son some breakfast. I would have to tend to that later. Waffles were calling.
After breakfast I immediately went into the playroom and cleaned. And since everything is pretty organized in there, it took all of two minuets to get it looking like this...
Whew. Much better. As you can tell, Zachariah was ALREADY in there starting to play. But I didn't care. I just needed it to be fresh and clean before he started making it more messy.
Is that weird? Am I alone in this act of insanity? Isn't the playroom supposed to stay messy? Shouldn't the four piles of dishes in the kitchen or the thick layer of dust in the living room be higher on my priority list?
Gah. I digress.
Due to errands and swimming lessons, we didn't have much time to make a mess of the room. But after Daddy came home from work, he and Zachariah did some damage.
Lets just say the play room gets cleaned up at least twice a day. Sometimes three. But I stop at three. I do have my limits, you know.
A messy playroom is a happy playroom. So long as the little boy in the playroom is happy, I am good to go. :)