The Cleanest Closets in Town, or, So What Do You Do All Day?

The ugliest question by far that I encounter fairly regularly is, "So, how do you spend your days?" As if tending to the bodily needs of three other human beings all while managing a decent-sized house isn't really work. And by looking around my house, you'd think I never cleaned. There is always laundry happening--either waiting to be washed, washed but not dried, dry but not folded, folded but not put away, or empty baskets lying around waiting for the next cycle. The girls have their De-luxy kitchen against one wall of our (formerly) formal living room, complete with all the De-luxy plastic food and Big T's shopping cart (which the other two have apparently been told is off limits). Books are everywhere all the time, as are OC's "dollies" (Little People) and assorted plastic animals from our Noah's Ark. I have had visitors actually snort when I mentioned just having cleaned, or even more embarrassing, just having had the cleaning lady in. (And no, those people don't get invited back, although sometimes they still continue to show up).

But my days are full of cleaning jobs that no one ever sees, but I know it's done. Saturday I demolished, reorganized, refolded, and sorted my linen closet, which also serves as Cleaning Supply Central (since I can't leave anything out lest the twins get at it) and Medicine Alley (same reason). Today I cleaned out, sorted, and garage-saled a ton of glassware that we received (presumably) as wedding gifts and that have sat, untouched, for the last five years in my cabinet taking up precious space. I sort the girls' clothes literally every day--is this too shabby to wear out and therefore relegated to the "in house playclothes" drawer? Has Big T grown out of this, but Little T could squeeze into it for another month? Do all of OC's 2T summer playshirts need to be bagged, tagged, and moved into the attic for Round 2? Don't get me started on cleaning the wastebaskets, changing the bedclothes (on 3 beds), plus food maintenance--are these leftovers too old for even the adults to eat? When did I make that mac and cheese for the kids? Do I have enough fruit for Little T to make it through a couple of meals, or do we need to plan a grocery run post haste? Never mind checking on my own coffee supply, keeping the cat from turning us over to the authorities for neglect, and keeping tabs on my ever-dwindling yet incredibly important supply of diapers (two sizes, two different styles, about 30 a day). I had an off day last week and let myself get down to one pack of wipes in the house, and that was what stays in the diaper bag. I was nearly apoplectic.

I would love to live in a house where nothing is ever on the (sparkling clean) floor, where there are no weird smells floating off of 3/5 of the people who live here, where everything is put away, labeled, and perfectly suited to purpose, a la the cover of a Real Simple magazine. That's not my life now, and I don't know when it ever will be. I know there are people who can't hang with our level of ordered disorder, or can't imagine how my mundane work fills the hours. I've stopped trying to explain, and just pick up the Wet Jet for the third time today. There are green Goldfish on the floor mocking me.