This sign should be on my front door.
I have a love-hate relationship about being a SAHM. I love that I get to witness all the little milestones that my kidlets achieve and I love that I get to cuddle and kiss them whenever I want. I love all the little giggles that I witness and cause, and I love the convenience of being at home with all my things about me.
I hate the fact that being a SAHM is not just that. It is also being a SAHC, a Stay At Home Cleaner, which I never really anticipated in its full extent nor really appreciated the unappreciated monotony of doing it every day.  
Now for those who say  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” then yeeeeeessssss, I guess I did want to be a SAHM, but I imagined it to be very different. I thought I would indeed give Betty Crocker a run for her money and be baking cookies and cakes every day. I thought I would be lovingly preparing dinner for my husband every day and have my toes and fingers home manicured to perfection. I thought my children would be happily self entertained at the table , colouring in and playing with their toys, with the occasional loving acknowledgement from me about how nicely they were playing together.

What I didnt expect was a whirlwind of destruction that sweeps though my house on an hourly basis which totally negates ANY and ALL cleaning efforts made during the previous 24 hours. I didnt imagine how tired I would be, getting up at 6am each day whilst trying to maintain a healthy adult relationship with hubby in the evenings. I didnt imagine there would be no weekends. I certainly wasnt anticipating a intuitive baby who KNOWS when you are trying to stack the dishwasher, fold the laundry or tidy a bookcase and unravels your work as quickly as you have put it all back together. I didnt foresee spending countless hours trying to transform the bastard that is Optimus Prime, find Spidermans missing glove (no, hand socks wont do Mummy!) or Supermans cape so that G Man can play happily or exactly how many nappies Master J can produce when teething.  I didnt realise exactly how far food can travel off a highchair and how quickly a newly mopped floor can turn into a sticky mess with the power of just one drippy icypole or a pop top discovered by the wrong child.

I totally didnt realise how lovely it is to just snuggle on the couch with G Man whilst Jax is napping (valuable housework time) so that we can just have Mummy/G Man time. Soooo beautiful.

I totally didnt imagine that hubby would see ALL the housework as mine to do. I honestly imagined that on his 2-4 days “off” from his work that I might get one too. He says “but honey, I DONT think that you should pick up my socks or put my beer bottles in the bin for me or stack the dishwasher every day”. Really??? Who else is going to do it? The cleaning fairy?  
Bahahahahahahahahahahaha haha ha ha ha    ha         ha. 
I wish I had this
I envy people who have OCD. Contracting this the only way I can see my house being clean on a regular basis, and not just when we are expecting guests. I feel very guilty when people come visit who have OCD – I KNOW they are looking around, itching to clean up just that little bit more. These people are capable of being super parents AND super cleaners as well as everything else and should wear a medal every day. Oh and they probably do it all on five hours of sleep each night in their freshly laundered and ironed bedsheets.
Housework is the only thing that gives me penis envy.
and yes, I did search ebay for one of these when Master J started crawling.
Links like this – – make me crack up laughing. Seriously, do these people have children? What is the point of having a squeaky clean house when it will be trashed in under 2 hours!  
Blog posts like this – – crack me up in their total accuracy and make me feel so much better about my housework prowess. “Couches are just oversized hankies” Love it!!
After much soul searching I have simply decided that I am not cut out to be obsessively neat and tidy about my housework and not to let it stress me. Lets face it – a happy mummy makes a happy family. The floor gets vacuumed when the little bits on the floor drive me nuts stuck between my toes. Mopping happens when the slant of the sun catches just right and I notice the big dried sticky puddle of cordial. Actually I fib – thats when I spot mop with the baby wipes. Real mopping happens when I see a LOT of them and it becomes not so cost effective with the baby wipes to do the entire house. I wash the sheets when I notice they need doing and I fold the laundry when I can no longer get into the laundry (folding washing is one task that Master J has a BALL with and whilst adorable, he is not very conducive to efficiency in this department).  Our house is a home – there is lots of love, laughter, kindness, gentleness, time spent on each other and enjoyment all round. There are fingerprints, crumbs and maybe a sticky cordial mark here or there that I haven’t noticed between loving my kids or spending time with my husb
and. It is not pristine and if you don’t give me enough notice on your intent to visit chances are you may be shocked. 
Or it may just remind you of your place when nobody is looking 🙂

PS – thanks to My Mummy Daze for the laugh 🙂