I just scrubbed the bathroom. So, don't say I never did anything.
Although actually, I really need to do that more often. I don't understand how a room in which we go into to clean ourselves gets so gross!
I am not really what the cool kids like to refer to as a "good housekeeper". It's weird, because in my former life as someone with a paying job, I was a psycho, Type-A neat freak. When I worked in an office, I kept my desk completely organized, and loved to spread my organization everywhere! When I was a nanny, my girls drawers and closets looked like the showroom at Gap Kids. If their parents folded the clothes and put them away over the weekend when I wasn't there, I would re-fold it. Psycho, right?
Still, I could never translate my At-Work Neatness into my Real Life and more often then not, my personal living space is mess. Not super dirty or anything, just messy. Books everywhere. Laundry in baskets, never quite making it into drawers and closets. Flip flops resting here, there and everywhere. An, much to my husband's chagrin and my embarrassment, the occasional errant Q-Tip.
(I have what is known as a "Q-Tip Problem")
I thought that becoming a Stay At Home Mom would transform me into the type of domestic diva who always put dishes in the dishwasher, puts away her laundry, has a place for all those flip flops, and always puts her Q-Tips in the trash. Did that happen?
Not. So. Much.
PJ's room is a beacon of neatness in a sea of mess. His drawers are perfectly organized, his little onesies folded into perfect little squares. His many books are placed on the shelves just so, and his sheets and the cover on his changing table always match. His diapers sit in neat, fluffy little piles in their assigned alcove. What other kind of environment could there be for my sweet, blonde son?
And why is it okay for my own environment to be a mess? The world may never know.