Thursdays are my favorite cleaning day by far. Mondays are a scramble to get our main living areas back in order after a weekend of no chores. Tuesdays are bathrooms and the boys’ room – I don’t think I need to say more. But Thursdays – Thursdays I clean my kitchen.
That’s toothpaste. Those of you who know me personally 0n Facebook may remember The Great Toothpaste Incident of 2010. I thought letting it dry and then scrubbing it off with a brush would be the best idea.
It’s been scrubbed, wiped, cleaned, and now steam cleaned. This is over the course of a few weeks.
Spring cleaning made a lot of sense for centuries. When homes were heated with wood or coal, the winter heating season brought a build-up of soot and ash on walls, furniture, and fabrics. Spring cleaning marked the end of the heating season, when the entire house was aired and scrubbed clean, when windows could be opened and the winds of spring would blow through the house, refreshing it.
After eating chili and peanut butter sandwiches, they each grabbed a chocolate cupcake and ran around the church gym, playing and running and playing some more. A friend stopped me at one point in just a panic. “Have you see their shirts?” Another one came up to me, “They’ll never come clean. Chocolate just doesn’t come out.” Another one said, “I don’t know how you’re staying so calm.”
The pictures didn’t come out. I’m irritated because you can’t see how bad this really was. These are little Jeb handprints – red handprints – more specifically, handprints made from hands smeared with red lipstick. I don’t want to really discuss the incident or the red handprints that went all the way up the stair banister, the stairwell wall, the upstairs hallway, the boys’ bedroom door…
So, I’m going to play around with how I do things in my home, shift things around, bring homeschool down to three days a week, and see what I can do so that everything still gets done and I can still write as much as I need to and still give this blog all of the focus it needs.
Filling up the entire side of my fridge, is my life. I can stand back, with my back against the wall, and see the entire year laid out in front of me. I see upcoming birthdays, doctor appointments, days of my husband’s flight home (YAY!), days school gets out, days I need to bake bread for the church bazaar — whatever is coming up is right there.