1 Mother 2 Another

We had our big Christmas party this
weekend, a tradition going back years before we had kids.
We’ve always thrown open our doors and invited a big crowd,
spending weeks leading up to the event furiously cooking and
cleaning and decorating. Since having kids, though,
something’s had to give, so I finally threw in the towel and
admitted I need professional help.


No, I didn’t hire someone to bake for me. Bite your tongue.


I hired a cleaning lady.

And yes, it was very extravagant, and yes,
it’s the first time in my entire life I’ve ever done
that. But I gotta tell you, it was a huge relief to go through the
entire week last week chopping and melting and hanging greens and
throwing things around, knowing I was having the relief team coming
in on Friday to clean up after me.


I’m not the world’s best housekeeper, but I do try to
keep up as best I can. We’ve got a relatively big house,
though, and two active kids, and a few different jobs outside the
home, and, well, dust bunnies happen. So when the cleaning woman
arrived Friday morning it was all I could do to restrain myself
from embracing her full-on.


At the end of the day, our place was sparkling and pristine;
she’d even straightened up messy piles without destroying my
precarious filing systems. I tiptoed around the bedrooms, noting
the fluffed beds and attention to detail – she’d gone
so far as to put all the girls’ dollhouse furniture neatly
back into the dollhouses. I turned to Brian with puppy-dog eyes and
said pleadingly, “Can we keep her? Please? Can we,
huh?”


I felt sorriest for the girls, since I’m sure I became quite
the domestic dictator until party time the next day. “No
eating while walking around! Elizabeth just mopped the floor! And
don’t get those toys out- Elizabeth just put them away! And
STOP RUNNING AROUND – you’ll destroy Elizabeth’s
neat zig-zag vacuum pattern on the carpet! Listen, can you just sit
motionlessly until party time?”


I know no one really lives as neatly and sparklingly clean as our
house looked all the time, but I sure can see how nice it would be
to have someone wave a magic wand (and a scrub brush) every week
and prettify it for me. I’m sure I’d be the best mom
ever if I just didn’t have to pay so much attention to those
pesky details, like dishes. And toilet bowls. Do you think
she’d do laundry too?


Hmmm. Dear Santa . . .