Cleaning for the Cleaner

Yes, I am one of those women. I have a cleaner, with my life it is a necessary evil. I could run through all those numerous justifications I have stored at the ready, but I'm not going to. I save them for the many in real life who look me up and down and sneer: "YOU have a cleaner? Well, some people have it easy."

The funny thing is that I often wonder if it is more work getting ready for her arrival than it would be just to clean myself. Logically, I know that is not true, but in the midst of frantic picking up and putting away on a Friday morning the thought does get muttered underbreath more than once. I live in a manic household. Besides Boy 1 and Boy 2, Big Boy and I also have to contend with Cat 1 and Cat 2 (both long hairs) and a maniac cockatiel. Add in the numerous visitors for playdates and this house always seems to be in chaos.

And it is a big bloody house. So, here I am, Friday morning yet again and I am freaking out trying to get laundry away, toys and games picked up, cat litter changed, paperwork sorted (though everytime I do that I seem to lose bits), and generally create a false impression of a completely organised and efficient Madmother household.

It is worse at the moment because she is new. I try to ease our workers in gently, not have them walk into disarray and turbulance in the first few weeks. Lull them into thinking this place ain't so bad, and then slowly, slowly introduce them to the reality. Well, a limited reality because, let's face it, I sure as hell wouldn't let them see the real state of this crazy home! One day I am going to have a housekeeper who will organise my life whilst I sip cocktails and write on my laptop by the pool. One day I am also going to win the lottery. One day I will seek help for my delusions.

Cheers. Off to frantically clean for the cleaner.