From Procrasatinator to Betty Crocker

I have a ridiculous amount of Izey/momma stuff to blog about. I'll let you in on a little blogger secret: I usually sit down and write 4 to 6 posts at a time and schedule them to publish on that many consecutive days. It's funny how my blogging habits keep in step with my general m.o.--wait until something needs to be done really bad, and then do a whole bunch all at once.

One really gross aspect of that method (shall we call it "procrastination"?) has been my housekeeping. Especially the bathroom. Ew. Generally my thought process goes like this:

1. Finish cleaning the bathroom on, say, a Saturday. Ah. That feels good. Looks fantastic. This time I'm not going to let it get gross again. I'll clean it again next Saturday. Yeah, I'll start a whole new schedule. It'll never be embarrassingly disgusting again!

2. Several weeks go by. Man, this bathroom is getting kinda nasty. I should really clean it sometime. Yeah, I'll clean it tomorrow. Or the next day.

3. Several more days go by. This is gross. I probably shouldn't put Isaac in that tub, let alone my feet. I have to clean this before someone sees it or catches a disease using it.

4. Another day goes by. Um, why hasn't Zach said anything about this bathroom? What is this, 1952? Why am *I* the one responsible for this mess? Doesn't he even notice? He probably notices, but is just waiting for me to do it. Lazy, good for nothin'.... *

5. Another day goes by, and someone is coming over for dinner, so I scrub the bathroom from ceiling to floor and everything in between. Ah. That feels good. Looks fantastic. This time I'm not going to let it get gross again. I'll clean it again next Saturday. Yeah, I'll start a whole new schedule. It'll never be embarrassingly disgusting again!

Well, folks, I am actually turning over a new leaf. About a month ago, around the same time that we put our condo on the market, I instituted Cleaning Day. And it's not a Saturday. It's Thursdays, the perfect day because Zach works from home, so if Izey wakes up from a nap and I'm elbow deep in a bucket of dingy cleaning suds (which has happened 12 too many times), Daddy can get him for me. Then I also get to be around Zach while he's home but I'm not begging him to hang out with me when he should be working.

I had to wait to see if Cleaning Day really stuck before I blogged about it, given my history of "I'll do better next week," but I have actually been sticking to it for several weeks now. This past Thursday, here is all I accomplished:

• Vaccuumed the whole condo
• Dusted most rooms
• Completed the laundry
  
• Scrubbed the bathroom, top to bottom
• Scrubbed the kitchen, top to bottom

It was fabulous. I actually enjoyed it because the whole time I kept congratulating myself on what a Betty Crocker Homemaker I was rather than feeling guilty that I had let it get so bad.

There is this whole big part of me who can't help but include a little analysis of the stereotypically female feelings that cleaning brings out....Nah, I better save it for another post.

*In his defense, Zach does clean the bathroom from time to time but, more importantly, he does a lot of other things around the house that I don't do. #4 is simply an example of me feeling guilty and therefore scapegoating.