Ever since I quit my job to stay home with my beloved children, I have been wrestling with the fact that part of being a mom at home is being in charge of housework. Dusting, sweeping, mopping, picking up, doing dishes – I hate it all. Yes, hate is a strong word, but I really do. I complain about it all the time. I even claim to be allergic to it – I sneeze like crazy, my eyes begin to itch and I have a stuffy nose by the end of the day. I ask my friends what’s the secret behind having a clean home and they all say, “you clean.” duh. I still could not wrap my brain around the constant work. Just a few weeks ago, I was the mom who let the kids eat cookies and crackers in the living room without even thinking about it. I thought, ah they’re kids, let them enjoy and I will clean it up later, then bitch about it.
For months, I yearned to be tidier. Well, my dream came true. How you ask? I HAVE A MOUSE. Gross. I have to admit though, when I thought of mice in homes, I thought of being in the country or dirtiness. I neither live on prairie land nor do I have a dirty home – a bit unorganized, yes, but definitely not dirty. Now I find myself constantly cleaning my floors, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, and cleaning off all surfaces to avoid this small creäture. I have seen it and it’s quite small and, dare I say, cute. But it’s still a mouse. It actually reminds me of the little mice in the Disney movies (which my daughter’s been watching like crazy) that (ironically) help the princesses clean. Anyway, as I was mopping the floor for the third time this morning I thought, dang, this place is clean! …thanks to our own little Mickey.
Now on to figuring out how to get rid of it. Oh, and I guess we should be careful what we wish for. I never thought mine would come true in the form of a mouse.