My house is immaculately spotless (to be excessively redundant). When I say spotless, I mean that the furniture is finger print free and shining, you can eat off the deeply clean floor, there is no way to trip over piles of laundry and toys because everything is put away, you can see your face in the kitchen sink, and all the bathrooms smell like a fresh summer breeze. In fact, I remarked to myself yesterday, this house Cleaner than our apartment our first year of marriage when we had no children and no pets.
How is this possible, you ask?
Largely due to the miracle of prayer and supplication to God, combined with the fact that we live next to the church and we are really really desperately tired of greeting all our friends with "please come in, please don't look at the floor, be careful where you step, oh, I'm so sorry, is that chair sticky, please try this chair...."
Also, we discovered the novel idea of teaching the children to pick up after themselves Before They Move On to the Next Thing.
Furthermore, we discovered that we also could pick up after ourselves. Like putting a dish in the dishwasher instead of the sink to sit for five days. I've even tried making beds in the morning after we get out of them, instead of in the evening right before we get in them.
I had no idea how much of my identity and purpose was bound up in cleaning. In the absence of having piles of rooms to clean, I've been at a veritable loss of how to conceive of reality. I actually sat down to read a book yesterday, and to read some books to the children, and play the piano for a few minutes. I feel like I'm living in a purpulishly clean twilight zone.
How can we possibly continue with this beautifully clean and ordered lifestyle? you ask. One day at a time.
Go check out Jen!