Sometime after pushing my first 8-pound bowling ball out my vaginal deferens, I succumbed (succame???) to the fact that my to-do list would always be a mile long and would never be finished. This was not easy since I’ve always been one of those crazies who has post-it notes everywhere and practically gizzes (jizzes?) when I get to cross something off on the list because it was completed.
Anyways, one of the things that never ever gets finished on my list is a whole lot of shit I’m supposed to clean. Prepare to think I’m a disgusting mess of grossness after reading this, but here goes. The top ten things I should clean more often in my house.
1. My car
So you know those awesome snack cups that let kids jam their fingers through the lid to retrieve small amounts of food? Thank F’ing God for them because my kids basically live off eating out of those.
Here are the things my kids won’t eat:
Here are the things my kids will eat:
Ahhhhhhhh (the sounds of angels singing from above), I just had the most brilliant idea! I’m going to put broccoli into a snack cup at 3PM and see if they’ll eat it from there. OMG, F’ing genius. You know that shit ain’t gonna work, but humor me for a few minutes until I figure that out. Anyways, I digress. Go F’ing figure. Holy crap, I’ve used the word “F’ing” like four times already in this post. Cue the a-holes who hate curse words. WTF is wrong with some people?
Anyways, my daughter has recently decided that she doesn’t want the lid on her snack cups anymore, and since she almost four (and because I feel guilty for locking her in her room a lot) I let her take it off. Of course, I almost have a heart attack every time, but whatta you gonna do?
So the other day she took her lid off and about 1/3 the way through her snack she said she was done. And even though I was driving on a sixteen-lane highway at 80 miles per hour, uhhh I mean exactly the speed limit, next to an 18-wheeler that had the words flammable gas all over it, she INSISTED that I take it right at that very moment. She was about ‘this close’ to spilling it so I did the totally unsafe Mrs. Incredible reach back and hope she can put it in my hand move. She did! And then like an F’ing idiot, I bumped my elbow.
ZOEY: IT’S RAINING CHEERIOS AND GOLDFISH!!!!
OMG, I have never seen her so excited in her life. She was right. It was just like Goldfish and Cheerios were pouring from a Goldfish-Cheerio cloud in the sky through our sunroof and into our car. Of course for the next fifteen minutes I was mad as hell at her for spilling them even though I was the one who totally did it. It’s like when I have an imaginary conversation between me and my husband and then I’m totally pissed at him even though the conversation never really happened.
Anyways, I digress. So here’s what my car looks like now.
That’s what happens when it rains Goldfish and Cheerios in your car and for three weeks after everyone steps on them/crawls on them/adds more to the pile. And every time I pull into the garage and take my kid out of the car, I’m like awwww shit, I totally forgot to stop at a gas station to vacuum the car again.
And please nobody better post some comment here about that new minivan Honda is coming out with that has a vacuum in the back seat because A. Until this blogging gig pays more than $0, I can’t afford a new car. And B. The reviews say it can’t vacuum up Cheerios. WTF Honda, then what’s the point?
And that’s the end of #1. Holy shit, that was like a novel. Maybe I should stop there. Nahhh, just kidding. Just to refresh your memory, we’re talking about shit I don’t clean enough.
2. The potty seat
So I don’t know about your potty seat, but ours pretty much sits permanently on the shitter because my kids have their own bathroom.
But every once in a while my husband stinks up our bathroom so bad I would literally keel over and die if I entered without a gas mask, so I decide to use the kids’ bathroom instead and I have to remove that Sesame Street potty seat. Holy mother of God, WTF?! I should have used salad tongs to remove that Hazmat situation! The underside is like a Jackson Pollock painting of pee-pee. And thank the good lord for the muppet pattern on the top of it so I can’t see what’s going on there.
3. Crib sheets
Do you know what I miss? Drop-side cribs. Yeah, I know I could have kept our old one and used it for my son, but as soon I heard they killed like 2 out of 19 million babies (FYI, I’m too lazy to look up the real figure so don’t use this info for any book reports or anything), I was 200% sure it was going to happen to my kid so I got one of those non drop-side cribs.
So basically since I’m like ridiculously vertically challenged I have to hold my kid about five inches from the mattress and then drop him in. Needless to say, this does wonders for calming him down and putting him to sleep. Anyways, my point is that it is physically impossible for me to reach the mattress unless I stand on a stool. You’re probably like then why the F don’t you just get a stool? Because of my dignity a-hole. And that’s why I hardly ever wash my kid’s crib sheet. Because I can’t F’ing reach it. I mean not to the point that it has scabies and bed bugs crawling all over it, but to the point that Dateline would have a heyday.
4. The floor
You know what’s awesome? When you’re so crazy tired that you lay (lie??) down on the kitchen floor. You know what’s not awesome? When you’re lying there and you suddenly see everything from a new perspective. Holy shit, have I like EVER cleaned this floor before? Crumbs, dust bunnies, Cheerios, and hey, look, there’s that grilled cheese sandwich Holden dropped the other day that I couldn’t find. Well, it’s not my fault the dustbuster can’t suck up a whole sandwich.
5. My desk
Hells yeah, this is where the magic happens. And by magic I mean shit. I have no clue what’s in that pile behind my computer. I just know that it’s important shit I don’t want to forget about. And there are always a couple of dirty tissues on my desk because I sneeze like all the time, which basically means I pee myself like all the time. And yes, there’s a diaper on my desk, but for the record it’s clean. At least this time it is.
6. The hole in the highchair seatbelt fastener thingie (Yes, this is the technical name for it)
In case that wasn’t clear, this:
So Holden has been sitting in this high chair for about a year now, and I don’t think I ever really cleaned the seatbelt fastener thingie until a couple of weeks ago when Throwupalooza came to our house and I had no choice. FYI, this is not vomit in this picture. This is oatmeal that conveniently fell exactly into that hole about ten seconds after I cleaned it and put the seatbelt back into the highchair after Throwupalooza. Go figure.
Dear previous owners who installed the brown speckled countertops in our house,
THANK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! Thanks to your awesome choice in countertops I can’t see all the shit that lingers there after I cook. And by cook I mean toast and microwave things.
Speaking of cooking, check this shit out.
Yeah, I cleaned it right away after I noticed it, but this is proof of my washing-dishes strategy. You’re probably wondering how the F the outside of the pot gets all dirty like that. Well, I’ll tell you. So here it is after dinner and my husband’s all like I’ll wash the dishes, and I’m like no, I’ll wash them, and we go back and forth like this until I’m like, no, I’ve been with the rug rats all F’ing day so I get to wash the dishes and you have to go entertain the little a-holes.
La la la la la, washing all the dishes in peace, but I’m so tired and man those pots and pans look like a bitch to clean. I think I’ll just let them soak in the sink for a long time to help break down all the hardened food. Translation: until someone else decides to wash them. Translation: my husband.
So the pot sits in a pan of greasy water and then my husband who can’t stand when there are dishes in the sink (I’m so glad I don’t have this problem), washes the inside of the pot that’s super dirty but fails to realize that the outside has been sitting in greasy water for a couple of hours. Hence ring around the outside of the pot. Which is gross but not too terribly disgusting because it’s not like you cook food on the outside of the pot.
9. My purse
Maybe you saw this on Kelley’s Breakroom last week. Probably not because you would have been disgusted in me and stopped reading my shit. Anyways, pretty much the only time I clean my purse out is when we’re going on an airplane and I need to make sure there aren’t any liquids or combustibles (FYI, I spelled it wrong first time so don’t be too impressed) in there. And we haven’t flown since this blog about flying with kids. Maybe you remember how much it SUCKED ASS!!!) So this is how my purse will look until we fly somewhere again, give or take a wine cork.
I have three words for you. Actually, no, I have three letters— MSD (In case you’re new here and aren’t fluent in Baby Sideburns, that means Must Shower Day). And the only reason I have MSDs all the time is because there are way too many NSDs (duh, No Shower Days). Annnd cue the assholes who want to brag about how they never skip a day of showering and say I’m so disgusting. Before you even say anything, here’s my comeback. I have more important shit to do than take a shower every day. Like eat chocolate, and watch the Bachelor, and go to my friend’s house for hot tub parties. All shit I can do with a ponytail in my hair and quick baby wipe over the armpit.
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