19 posts tagged “housework”

On the heels of my post describing my neverending struggle to maintain an order of semblance in my household, I discovered what could well be the key reason I tidy my space at work daily but fail to do the same at home: at work, I am constantly aware of the time, yet the reverse is true at home.

So, how did I come to realize this?

I sat down to work on some cards last night. I had purchased some adhesive (finally - and 40% off at JoAnn!) and needed to put it away. I also purchased some photo mat stacks (also on sale), then remembered my large collection of photo mats hiding in the guest room closet, which was where the new ones were to ultimately be housed. Once I opened the box of my photo mat stash (a sight to behold, believe me), I started pulling out different papers until, before I knew it, I finished five cards (three birthdays and two thank yous) and turned my dining room table back into the unruly mess it was on Saturday.

By now, I was getting sleepy and was very tempted to leave my things as they were and trounce off to bed. Then I remembered the post I wrote yesterday and (silently cursing that post) made the effort to put away my crafting materials. It probably took all of 15 minutes to (mostly) clear the table of my crap supplies, but in cleaning for those 15 minutes, I properly disposed of myriad items, including stray scraps of paper (now in the recycling bin) and random cellophane packaging (placed in the trash), and laid out a plan for my next card-making adventure (namely, what cards I would like to make next - and how to go about it).

In applying the 15-minute-clean-up routine I have at work to my home environment, I actually felt I had produced more than just five cards at the end of my card-making session!

After straightening the dining room table, I put away a few things in the kitchen (including the potatoes - but I did that as soon as I got home) and picked up The Boy's toys in the family room. This took less than five minutes to do. I cleaned out the refrigerator, put the trash into the bin in the garage, washed dishes, then took a shower and went to bed.

I took a few minutes to maintain the areas I had already overhauled and was happy that the house (these areas, anyway) was presentable. My work was done.

Now I could go home - or, in this case, go to bed.

During the last week of December, I cleaned my cubicle at work and made it spotless. The desk was clean and dust-free, there were no loose papers to be seen, pens and paperclips were put away (and actually organized), and even my dishes were clean and in their rightful spots (in a drawer, out of sight). I even dusted the credenza and all the photo frames on display. It took me most of the day that Wednesday, but I left a spotless workstation on New Year's Eve in anticipation of a clean start to the new year. And I vowed to keep this up as long as I could.

One month later, and my cubicle is still tidy. I have dishes to wash before I go home tonight, and I'll need to put away my writing instruments when I'm finished, but I've made a point of taking 15 minutes before I leave each evening to tidy my area a bit. No, the papers aren't always put away and I sometimes have a (very small) stack next to my phone (I don't believe in In-Boxes anymore), but generally speaking, it's a clean space.

This past weekend, I overhauled the family room, rearranging some of The Boys toys and vacuuming (something that desperately needed to be done). Since The Boy doesn't like the sound of the vacuum, I've decided to run it every Saturday morning, giving him some time to cuddle with Chris while the Evil Vacuum sucks away all the dust and crumbs and other things that accumulate in the carpet. The Family Room has stayed clean for almost a week now (a very big deal for me), and I'm optimistic it can stay that way with only a modest amount of daily maintenance.

Last night, I made a concerted effort to clean the kitchen counters, one side in particular. The kitchen counter is my achilles heel of housework. Some people have dining room tables that are cluttered with bills and mail and odds and ends. For others, it's a nightstand or a side table, or even the coffee table. For me, it's the kitchen counter. Try as I might, I struggle to keep it clear of, well, crap. Groceries are often left there, opened snack bags migrate there, dirty dishes that refuse to leap into the dishwasher unassisted like to congregate there, and myriad papers - magazines, newspapers, art projects from daycare - also land there, mocking me with their presence until I'm ready to just tos or recycle the lot of them.

Earlier this year, I bought a scrapbooking supply organizer that works better as a mail caddy. There is one big slot in the back (perfect for magazines, catalogs, newspapers), two smaller slots in front (ideal for separating Chris's mail from mine), and two little drawers under those (for stamps, spare keys and odds and ends). It's an ideal system and has done its job keeping the mail under control. I also created a place for the art projects and papers we need to keep via a filing box, which I placed in the kitchen next to the knives. (It's out of the way, at least.)

Maintaining a clean and organized area takes far less time than overhauling it, but it also requires more daily discipline. As The Boy gets older and is able to do more things (i.e., put his clothes in the hamper, put his shoes on the shelf in his room, clean up his books and toys), I need to be more vigilant about maintaining clean spaces so that he'll learn to put things where they belong - and more to the point, understand that things belong in certain places. I don't want to stifle his creativity (Thomas the Tank Engine can, of course, run on the Little People airport runway, just as a giraffe can drive Plex's yellow buggy), but I also don't ever want him to accept clutter as the norm.

I set a rule for myself last year that has worked for me: If it doesn't serve a purpose or have a place, I shouldn't keep it. Using that rule has helped me let go of a number of things (A red eyeglass case with mouse ears and a mouse face? Really?), and it has also helped me determine the kinds of storage systems I need to store those things that serve a purpose but don't have a home. I'm also more determined than ever to put away - right away - anything new I bring into the house, be it diapers or laundry detergent or groceries adhesive - Iwithin 48 hours. (I have a bag of potatoes from Monday evening that still need to go into the root cabinet - must make a mental note to do that and put the grocery bag back into my car.)

At any rate, I'm systematically working my way through the house, straightening overhauling room by room. There's still much to do in the kitchen (isn't there always?), but I hope to get there one of these days. I just need to keep reminding myself that maintaining only takes about 30 minutes a day (or less!), while an overhaul can take three hours for just part of a room. Perhaps that will help give me the discipline I sorely lack.

It used to be that a Quiet Eileen meant I was getting into trouble. Sadly, I can only report this is not the case. In fact, this Quiet Eileen has been a very Busy Eileen. Between budget season at work and the usual month-end wrap ups, I've been putting in some pretty long hours and, well, not spending a lot of time on Vox. (And this only means I have so much reading to do now!)

At any rate, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel now, and I know for a fact it's not an oncoming train. First, my role in the budget process is just about over (yippee!), and on the home front, my mother-in-law is coming to visit! Double Yippee!!!

You see, The Boy is so active these days. I don't get a chance to relax or take any time for myself on a normal day, and I was nursing a God-awful cold last week that I couldn't shake because, well, I couldn't get enough rest! I was a major stress case - there's no denying that. So, when Chris asked if it was okay if his mom came to visit, no sooner were the words out of his mouth that I responded, "Yes! When?" He later told her that I didn't think she could get here fast enough, which, sadly, really is the truth.

The visit from Chris's mom meant I needed to get the guest room in order, though, which was the only stressful thing about the pending visit. But last night, I totally surprised myself and whipped the room into shape - and it took me less than two hours! In fact, for the first time in, like, ever, the room looks like a guest room that happens to have some boxes stored in it instead of a storage room that happens to have a bed in it. You can get in and out of the bed from either side of it, and I even have fairly easy access to all of my craft supplies, should I feel the urge to be a little creative! How crazy is that? When it was all done, I wished I took pictures before I started the process so I could see the transformation.

Can you tell I was thoroughly impressed with myself?

So, there are a number of things I would really like to do while she's here, including purging my wardrobe, repotting the plants on the window sill, finishing some greeting cards I had started, finishing the cutting on the pattern for my sewing project (which she might even be able to teach me to complete!), and make a few meals to freeze for later consumption. I would also love to paint the dining room, but let's not go overboard. But if she'd like to stay forever, I'd be okay with that, too.

I can't guarantee that I'll be blogging more, but I know I'll be feeling a lot less overwhelmed!

There are a plethora of other things I should be doing right now. Laundry tops the list (doesn't it always?), taking a shower, cleaning the kitchen, blah blah blah. I've decided to take the night off, though. I'm just feeling really blah today.

So, I ordered my computer from Dell last night. If money were no object and I wouldn't be using it, at least in part, for work purposes, I would have bought a Mac. Sadly, though, I would need to use this for work (at least some of the time), so a PC it was. And, well, Dell let me customize it and stuff.

It's a pink XPS 1530 with the fastest available processor. Why pink? If I had my way, I would have bought a red one (to match my red phone and red Nintendo DS - plus Dell would have made a donation to help AIDS patients in Africa), but there was good pricing on the pink (or blue) one with most of the features I wanted (including that processor, but I did upgrade a few other things). My husband really advised against getting a pink laptop ("It screams 'She's got a laptop'," he said) until I told him that the special pricing was only available on the pink or blue and the same configuration for a black one would have been an additional $700 (which I knew because that's what it would have been for a red one, too). He said he wouldn't have wanted the blue, either; black would have been his pick. But as it's my laptop... The pink is also a guarantee he won't touch it. I'll get it in a couple of weeks, but I'm still very excited about it.

The Boy is teething like crazy right now. It's the lower lateral incisors (finally!) that are giving him grief. I checked his gums after brushing his teeth this evening, and I think he'll have the right one come in first. Then he'll have 11 teeth. But the teething is terrible. I think the other kids help keep him distracted at school, so he doesn't fuss so much about his teeth there. Here, though, it's just Chris and me (or, as was the case this morning after Chris left to get his hair cut, just me), and we're only so exciting. Anyway, he drooled all over the romper he was wearing this morning, then drooled through a bib I put on him this afternoon. Poor little guy.

Lunch today was an adventure. He decided that he didn't want to eat anything but watermelon. Seriously. I really don't know how much he ate; I just know he was very angry that it wasn't hitting his tray fast enough. The teachers at school all marvel at how much this kid eats, but they laugh at how seriously he takes his food. Apparently, you don't want to interrupt this kid at meal time. But anyway, watermelon was the only acceptable thing on the menu. Towards the end, though (when he was starting to fall asleep in his high chair), he'd put the watermelon in his mouth, chew it a little, then spit it right out. It's not like he was sucking out the juice and just leaving the pulp, either. I can't explain it.

You know, now that I've unloaded a little, I'm suddenly motivated to do something again. Not laundry, though (I'm currently out of bleach and I need to bleach his diapers), but I think I'll put away his toys.

And maybe take a shower.

Chris Tivo'd Kid Nation, and I sat down with him last week to watch the second episode. He filled me in on the different personalities as we watched, and I found it interesting, though a bit of a stretch. (Pioneers who knew kids were going to be living in their town in a hundred years? I think they're taking the notion of suspension of disbelief a bit too far.)

Anyway, there's one little girl on the town council (Taylor, I think, is her name) who is an absolute pearl. (Those who know me understand when I call someone a "pearl", it's the furthest thing from a compliment. Pearls, after all, are created through constant irritation.) Moreover, judging by this girl's retort to everything ("Deal with it!"), I imagine her mother is a pearl, too. She's a cute little girl, but, despite her very young age, this kid is already a raving witch.

This weekend didn't go nearly as planned. I was seriously hoping to have some "me" time, even just a few minutes, but then Chris came down with something early Saturday morning and was bedridden most of the weekend. Which meant I was basically looking after the baby solo the whole time.

So much for finding the "me" in "mommy".

But rather than resigning myself to the notion that my weekend plans were now completely thwarted, I took a page from Taylor's book and told myself, "Deal with it."

Laundry needs to be done? Deal with it. Stick the baby in his bouncy seat, make sure he's got something to play with to keep him happy for a few minutes, and do it.

Need to fold the laundry? Deal with it. Put the baby in his crib, and when he starts to get angry because he wants to turn over, then because he turned over and didn't want to, reassure him that you're sitting right next to him and just finish the job.

Making dinner for Sunday? Deal with it. Stick the baby in his Bumbo, hand him his teething keys, talk him through the adventures of peeling a potato and cutting mushrooms (love my egg slicer, by the way, and I've never used it for eggs), and toss everything into a crock pot.

It doesn't sound like much, but these are things that I've had trouble completing for quite some time. I even read a book over the weekend while I was feeding him! (Okay, it was a parenting book, but it was still a grown-up book!) I kept my hair appointment (accompanied by the baby), went grocery shopping (alone on Saturday, then with the baby for a few extra things on Sunday), switched out the infant carrier/car seat base in my car for his "big boy" convertible seat, and let the baby sample freshly mashed avocado (which he liked, though he prefers apples).

I did almost all of it within arm's reach of the baby (Chris watched him when I went grocery shopping Saturday and while I switched out the seats in my car), but the best part was that Baby C was happy and content about 90% of the time. He is teething, after all.

So, maybe this Taylor girl is on to something. If I need to get something done, I'll find a way.

Just deal with it.

With Baby C's rash almost completely gone (he got a single hive Friday night when I tried to eat a tiny bit of soup that had a few banned ingredients in it), I'm comfortable swaddling him again. So, we'll try getting him to sleep in his room again this week, but I'm not holding my breath. It's rough because his favorite pacifier is still attached to me, and he has this awful habit of pitching a minor fit if I take it away from him before he's ready. "Life's full of disappointments," I told him this weekend. I hope it's not a conversation I need to have with him too frequently.

This morning, I wrapped up the baby and had him sleep for a few minutes while I did my hair and (attempted to do) my makeup. Once I got to work, I think I wiped 80% of it off because it just felt so weird. I'll probably reapply my lipstick after lunch, but that's it. I also tried to wear my contact lenses and got about two and a half hours out of them before I decided that, no, I'm not ready to wear my contacts again. My eyes just aren't used to it anymore. I think it's a combination of my eyes changing shape during pregnancy and my eyes being so dry from lack of sleep. At any rate, I'll try again tomorrow and see if I can get it to 3 hours or more. We'll see.

Saturday, I was finally able to put on a pair of capris that I haven't worn in about a year. (This coming Saturday will mark one year since I knew I was pregnant.) They're a little snug in the hips, still, but I can wear them in public and not be afraid of ripping them if I squat to pick up something or tie my shoes. This was a major coup for me because it means that my body really is getting back to its former shape. I only have one more pair of jeans to squeeze into before I'm officially back to where I was before pregnancy. And, as I'm only four pounds away from my starting weight now (and 17 pounds from my ideal weight), I'm feeling a bit hopeful that I'll be able to wear them again before the end of the year.

At least this crazy diet has done something positive besides clearing up the baby's rash.

In addition to purging the dead computer equipment, I was able to do a bit of cleaning this weekend, which was awesome. It felt good to dust off the ceiling fans and toss some old pillows that had overstayed their welcome. These are the kinds of things I haven't felt like I could do all year (first because I was so bulky that I made everyone nervous if I even stood on my step ladder, and then because Baby C wants constant attention), but Jen came over to entertain the baby, freeing me to change the bedsheets, do four loads of laundry, scour the toilets, dust the ceiling fans, clear off the top of one dresser, shred old bills and other sensitive papers, and assemble Baby C's high chair (I want to get him used to sitting with me for dinner, even if he's still not yet able to sit up unassisted). Jen also was kind enough to take away the box of no-longer-needed baby stuff that I had collected for her, so it freed up even more space in my house. Success!

I'm trying to get back to my Flylady schedule, but it hasn't been easy. I congratulate myself each night if I can get all of the baby's bottles washed and his school bag packed for the next day, let alone all the other things I used to do each night before the baby came. How did my mother manage to do all of this?

Well, on next weekend's schedule is a trip to West Elm to look at my dining room table (and hopefully buy/order it) and some repair work to the baseboard and drywall in my master closet. It seems the grout from the shower came loose and was letting some water seep in to the crevice... and now there's water damage in my closet. [sigh] At least now I have a car that can haul dry wall squares.

Yesterday, we got an e-mail at work letting us all know that some common areas were getting painted today and that the paint may still be wet when we come in to work. And lo and behold, the walls outside my cube were painted and still wet when I came in this morning. Now, of course, they're dry, but still stinky.

My boss's office also got painted, though it's not a common area. I just came from back there, choking on the fumes and gasping for fresh(er) air. Add to this the beginnings of what I fear may be a bad cold (courtesy of Baby C, I think), it's not much fun. But I get whiffs of fresh air whenever someone opens the break room door, so it's working out fine for me.

I actually like painting. I don't like the fumes, though. I bought paint for our front room (the Tiki Bar in progress) and entrance way, and I need to take a weekend to paint. This past weekend was no good (the last Harry Potter book came out, and I simply had to read it), so I'm hoping this coming weekend will be more promising. Either way, I'm thankful the front room has some nice windows that we can open up to air out the house a bit.

I don't know how other women do it. I like to think of myself as a strong, capable person, but I can barely scrape up any real time to myself anymore (besides the commutes to and from work). This is the first chance I've had to sit down at my home computer to write... and even now, I'm feeling guilty because there are other things I should be doing (not including sleep).

Besides, Baby C will be up soon (I think) for a feeding, and there's no use going to sleep until he wakes up.

So, I'm way behind on housework and am completely overwhelmed. I'm tackling it one task at a time, one step at a time, but it remains so very daunting. I'm way behind on laundry, I have dust piling up so high you can almost sit on it (okay, not really - but it's still gross), and my floors are in desperate need of a pass from the vacuum or the Swiffer.

And don't even get me started on all the Thank You cards I still have to write. Baby C is almost three months old and I still haven't sent out notes for all the presents that arrived after his showers.

I know, I know... It's stuff that we all have to go through. After my work day, I have to clean and sterilize all Baby C's bottles and nipples from school, put away the milk I've expressed for the day, get the next day's "lunch" bag ready, feed him, help bathe him (every other day), read to him, sing to him, play with him, feed him, change him, then finally put him down. And somewhere in there, I need to eat (I asked my husband weeks ago to take over dinner-making responsibilities), use the bathroom, take a shower, get my own stuff ready for the next day (because there's nothing more fun than running around in the mornings looking for stuff with an 11-week-old, even if he is in his Bjorn), and manage to get enough sleep to function the next morning.

Tomorrow, I'm not planning on taking Baby C outside. He and I will play together at home. And while Mommy does laundry (some currently running as I type), pays bills, cleans out the refrigerator, purges magazines and junk mail, vacuums, Swiffers, and does all the other things that have fallen to the wayside, he can sit (hopefully quietly) in his Bjorn.

And Mommy can only hope she doesn't fall on her face with Baby C still strapped to her!

I'm officially in my ninth month, which means Baby C is just packing on weight and I ought to start cutting back on the bad things that I'm eating (she says, after finishing her third donut of the morning).

It's hard to believe I'm at 36 weeks. On one hand, it seems like no time has passed at all, and my reaction is, "Wow! I'm already at 36 weeks!" On the other hand, it seems it's been ages since I was able to touch my toes, and my reaction is, "Wow... I'm only at 36 weeks?"

This can't be easy on my poor husband, no matter what he says. This morning, when I said that I really haven't been taking good care of him lately, he replied, "You're doing fine. I'm doing fine. I'm still alive, aren't I?" And while, yes, he is still living, I feel bad because I can't do half of the things I used to be able to do with ease... like laundry and loading or emptying the dishwasher. And my shower is a mess and I'm so aggravated that I can't effectively scrub the grout. In fact, lots of things in my house are a mess, and I get so frustrated at my inability to do anything, I'm ready to cry. But it's really not fair of me to expect my poor husband to pick up my slack because he's got his own list of Things To Do to finish before the baby comes, like preparing the nursery, building the nursery furniture, finishing the Tiki Bar, moving the stuff in the dining room to the finished Tiki Bar, painting the dining room, etc.

I miss having some semblance of order and a routine in my home life. It wasn't so bad a few months ago; if I couldn't sleep, I could at least get up and do some laundry or clean the kitchen or scrub the bathrooms. Now, I can't even transfer clothes from the washer to the dryer without needing to stop and catch my breath.

I really hope this doesn't mean I'm going to be a totally neurotic mother. I mean, I have enough neuroses as it is, but I don't want Baby C to know about them!

I've been awake since about 3:15 and finally gave up around 3:45 on the hopes of being able to fall back asleep. At least it's Friday and I can sleep in a little bit tomorrow. Well, except that we're going to take our aged computer equipment to Winter Haven (a good 35 minutes away) to recycle it in the morning before my father-in-law arrives (I think he's coming tomorrow). But at least it's Friday.

So, Wednesday night, anticipating that I wouldn't sleep through the night, I ran a load of laundry. I figured that if I woke up in the middle of the night, I could at least transfer the clothes to the dryer and be productive. Well, I slept through the night, waking up at 5 - at which point I transferred the clothes - and then folded them before I left for work at 8:15. By last night, I had no laundry to run, the dishwasher wasn't full yet, and the recycling had just been picked up, so I am actually caught up on housework. Even my shoes are neatly lined up in my closet!

I just paid all my bills (love that Online Bill Pay) and balanced my checkbook. Once Chris wakes up I can shred all traces of my existence (my payment stubs, anyway) before I get ready to go to work super early. [sigh] Beyond that, I really have nothing to do.

Martha Stewart would say that I should use this time to tile a table for the outdoors or develop next month's dinner menu or something ridiculous like that. The sad thing is that if the nursery was cleared out and ready for primer, I would probably start painting! But as it's not, I think I'm going to crawl back into bed and keep my husband company for the next half hour or so, then get up while he's in the shower and eat some cereal. That's enough excitement for me.