I have incorporated a new cleaning schedule for myself, as the old method of waiting till the entire house needed cleaning (and laundering) was causing too much
The Domestic Goddess Gets Her Act in Gear
aka Scheduled Within an Inch of Her Life
Monday: It's not just Monday Gum Day anymore, no! It's Mopping Monday! The entire house gets swept and mopped with the trusty bucket, and either Mr. Clean or my Vim Hardwood solution, on alternating weeks. But yes, the kids are still allowed a stick of gum after their afterschool snack.
Tuesday: Vacation. Up at 6, out by 7, somehow washed and dressed and fed, also having made breakfast for the kidlets, at work by 7:30, home by 4. Just in time to make dinner. Yet still, it's a vacation.
Wednesday. Why, it's Wacuuming Wednesday! Or Vacuuming Vednesday! Call it what you want! Also includes dusting and sneezing. Baseboards, tops of doors, corners, rugs, stairs, playmats in the basement, couches, behind the toilet, blinds, under beds... did I mention how many dustbunnies my tiny house can produce in a week? A lot. Also, the kids have gymnastics at 4:30, and we eat at 6. I am still amazed that this is (sometimes) possible, thanks to the magic of crockpottery and programmable ovens. Or shawarma, whatever.
Thursday: Vacation. But at least it's Pizza Day at V's school, so my lunch-packing is less intensive,** and it's also tv night, so I get 30 minutes to myself in which to order (or "bake") pizza, as it's also Pizza Night. And then I welcome the babysitter, as I have ball hockey in the evening. Thursday is a Good Day.
Friday: TGIBF! Baffroom Friday, that is. Bathrooms, mirrors, windows and surfaces, oh my. But it also has the luck of being Overlap Day! Our nanny arrives at 7:30, so I can take Vaughn to the bus stop. I have an extra set of hands to watch the two littlest ones, which lets me take Ailsa to her dancing lady class (or out for some special one-on-one time), clean in peace, and I have even managed to take a few naps. Heaven.
Saturday: Fitness first: I teach Attack at 9 am, which means getting the crew up and in the car, which is already running by 8:27 at the latest. I drop them off at the gym daycare, be a superhero/rockstar for an hour, then shower, bundle them up (is it spring yet???), get back in the car and home for an early, quick lunch, then off to the rink for 11:45, enough time to tie skates on three of us (Tamsin stays home with a sitter, Grandma, or Daddy, when he's in town), do skating lessons for an hour, then home to naaaaap. Saturday night, as always, is reserved for a movie, served with wine, cheeses, and grapes.
Sunday: Nobody in the house may make a peep before 7:30 am. One day, my kids are going to read this and either feel betrayed and furious or have their suspicions confirmed: 7:30 is whenever the hell I decide it is. Chris and I sneak into their bedrooms on Saturday nights and set their clocks back accordingly. But anyhoo, I digress. Sundays are for raisin toast, smoothies, and groceries. That is all I ever schedule for Sunday. And, of course, it's the second tv night of the week. Oh, blessed, blessed 30 minutes. So quiet, so peaceful... oh god, I have to pack V's lunch tonight...
And there you have it. It's not unmanageable, as long as I stay on top of things... it's been 5 weeks of this schedule, and so far, the house is clean and presentable(ish), I haven't died from exhaustion, and the children haven't come down with rickets or ... well, rickets, anyway. Unfortunately, they want an extra (vacation) day out of me at work. Which impacts Baffroom Friday. And Ailsa Time. And, ultimately, ME time.
I think the real reason I wrote this down was to just confirm to myself that I am doing the impossible, but making it possible...as long as I don't think about it too much. It becomes overwhelming at least 3 days a week (guess which ones?), but if I just follow The Plan, one day at a time, it's doable....but maybe it won't be if I add an extra day at the office, so seeing this in black and white will give me the backbone to stand up and say, "I can't," something that I don't like to say, ever. Or maybe, most likely, I wrote it down so that when Fis asks me if I've renewed the plates/hung our degrees up/called the garage, I can just send him this link and say, WHAT DO YOU THINK?
* No, he's just in Toronto. We're still in the pool.
** Despite Fis' assertions that I'm paranoid, they totally judge you by the lunch your kid brings to school.