I’m Just Going To Put Down Some Hay And Be Done With It

I am convinced that when my children go to bed, they unzip their human suits and reveal their real selves—tiny, adorable, DISGUSTING PIGS.

I had an unexpectedly light work load today, and The Babyman was remarkably cooperative. He slept late and took a textbook-perfect nap. I had plenty of writing I could have done during those hours, but instead I literally got down on my hands and knees to clean.

The kitchen floor—and the family-room rug, for that matter—were filthy. Like, so filthy that the entire population of a third-world country could subsist on the food on my floors.

DISGUSTING, I tell you. PIGS.

I spent two hours washing dishes, floors and counter-tops. I vacuumed. I dusted and stowed toys in their proper places. I got behind the fence and cleaned up all of The Poo’s teeny-tiny Polly Pockets shoes.

And by the way, the person who is responsible for Polly Pockets? A firing squad is too good for that person. That person should be covered in raw meat and eaten by wild dogs.

At 3 p.m. I left the house to fetch The Poo from school. By 4 p.m., my house was wrecked. Wrecked, I tell you! Some brown substance, either chocolate or feces, was all over my sofa. And the floor?

Littered with sweaty socks, shoes, tote bags, papers, toys, and yes! Food! Where are they getting all this fucking FOOD? There are Goldfish crackers in every corner of my home.

Hey, I think I just pulled a Goldfish cracker out of my ass!

And speaking of asses, can someone please tell me why when one of my children poops, the other is compelled to poop at the exact same time, or directly thereafter? Why? WHY?

At 8 p.m. tonight I descended the stairs to see my filthy family room and dirty kitchen. I hadn’t eaten yet, but couldn’t rest or consume an ounce of food until those two rooms were clean again.

So it’s official, I am my mother. She could never rest until the house was tidy again, and I could never understand why. Now, I do. She needed order after a disorderly day, and all her days—like mine—were, by definition, disorderly.

Order is necessary. And so, I clean. While the children sleep their piggy sleep in their neat beds.

Or, I could just cover the floors with hay and be done with it.

Yeah. You know what? I am totally going to do that.