Just for the record, everytime I read the title to this blog I laugh until snot flies out of my nose. First, it's the first grader in me laughing at the word URANUS, and second I get an image in my head of my children actually being birthed from my ass. I know, juvenile, but still a little funny.
Are my kids the only ones that misconstrue the phrase, "clean up your mess" to mean wipe off the counter with a dirty paper towel, miss an entire ant hill of crumbs on the floor, and throw your things as close to the garbage as possible without actually going in? I got up this morning, stretched, scratched things, and thought I would gather up the dirty laundry, take it downstairs, grab a protein bar and enjoy the sunshine for a little while. What actually happened was, I got downstairs and realized the dishwasher had to be emptied so that a whole new load could be put into it, the garbage can looked like the garbage was stored on the outside of the can and had to be cleaned, the wall behind the trash can was covered in food because apparently it is the backboard to the garbage can/basketball hoop, and the counters and stove were still in need of a good cleaning. This was all after my husband told me he "cleaned the kitchen" after dinner yesterday.
I feel like the majority of my days are spent cleaning up after other people who have already done their version of cleaning. Like when the kids "clean their rooms" which is short for "we threw everything we could underneath our beds, in our closets, and in our dresser and desk drawers so you can't see it and it looks clean". Or when the husband tells me he "did the laundry for me" which only means he put it in the washer, sometimes it made it to the dryer, but the folding and putting away are left for me. I think next time he wants to get naked and do the horizontal mamba, I am going to strip him naked, get him aroused and then say "we totally just had sex" and then roll over and go to sleep. See how he likes that.
It also never ceases to amaze me how blind the people I live with are. They will walk by something on the floor a thousand times and never see it until I point it out. Then they will say they didn't see it even though they have already stepped on it or pushed it aside every time they walk by it. Drives me insane!! Next time they are out of clean socks and underwear and come down complaining, I am going to say "Sorry, I didn't see that six foot high stack of stinky laundry with flies circling it!".
My all time favorite lately is when I tell the kids to brush their teeth and they go stand in the bathroom with the water running, texting on their cell phones or picking their asses, and then they come out and try to run out the door before I can check their yellow, stained and lying teeth. My son is the best con artist ever, until he remembers who his mother is and that I will always be smarter than him. Conversation from this morning:
Did you brush your teeth this morning?
Yes, I just did!! (Flashes his teeth at me from across the room)
Let me see them.
SEEEEE!! They are clean!! (Starts backing out of the room with that I'm-late-for-school attitude)
Bring your FACE over here and let me see your teeth.
Inches about 2" closer to me.
Let me smell your breath.
Moommmmm. They are clean.
I will make a deal with you. If you come over here and let me smell your breath and see your teeth up close and they are actually clean, I will let you eat ice cream for dinner. If your breath smells like day old ass cakes and your teeth look like you peed in your mouth, you lose your TV and Wii for a week. Wanna take that bet smartass?
Fine. I will go brush my teeth.
Good choice. It helps if you put toothpaste ON your toothbrush and actually scrub the brush across your teeth.
I know mom.
What was that?
That's what I thought. Love you!
I tell my kids all the time, I had you young enough so that I remember all the crap I tried to pull as a kid, so I am sorry to ruin the joys of adolescent lying, but you are going to have to invent all new schemes of deception if you want to pull one over on me!
Then there is the man of the house. I went to my sisters house this past weekend and ended up spending the night. When I left, the house was clean and in one piece. All I requested was that it look like that when I got home. Instead, I come home to a game room that looks like a giant video game monster threw up remotes, CD's and snack wrappers, a dryer full of clothes from the day before that hadn't finished drying, and a sink full of dishes (even though there was a perfectly good, EMPTY dishwasher right next to it. I could have ranted and raved, and bitched till my face turned blue and I sprouted horns, but all I would have gotten is that "dog that hears a high pitched noise" look from them all so, I laid down and took a nap instead. Because being the only rational, clean and organized person in the universe (or at least in my house) is exhausting. If I am Superwoman than dirt and stupidity must be my kryptonite.
Despite it all, I love these blind, stinky, foul breath having creatures that are my family. And unless I somehow find a way to encapsulate myself in a pristine bubble of cleanliness, I will continue to be the cleaner of the house, the maker of meals, the picker upper of all things dropped and forgotten, and the washer of dirty socks and underwear. It's not a perfect life, but I'll take it.
But I still say men are from Mars, and children are from Uranus. If nothing else, they are all a pain in Uranus. And I'm off to giggle again.