I Got Cleaners and I Feel…Weird

I, finally, broke down and hired cleaners for my house.

I couldn’t handle it all, anymore. As a stay-at-home mom with a toddler, plus a writer trying to make it in this insane internet world, I couldn’t keep up with the household chores.

At first, I felt like a failure. What kind of person can’t keep up with their chores? What kind of stay-at-home mom can’t keep up with their chores? Hasn’t society told me that that’s my entire job? Just to look after my child and keep the house clean? Yeah, turns out it’s fucking exhausting doing that.

Turns out, society doesn’t give a shit about moms, or women, or anyone who needs extra help. Lots of people had to do it themselves, so why not run yourself ragged trying to do it all? Why not try to kill yourself being happy, having the perfect marriage, going to therapy, going to the gym, having a job, but also parenting full-time like you don’t have a job, having a clean house, being happy, having hobbies, and seeing friends?

It totally makes sense, right? Just do it all because someone, somewhere, is suffering more than you are.

So, yeah, I feel weird that people are cleaning my house while I sit in my office writing, or looking at my phone, cleaning this room that they don’t need to clean, or reading.

But, you know what?

They’re cleaning right now while I’m banging out blog post after blog post. They’re cleaning while I can throw in laundry and catch up with the mountain that is forever piling up. They’re cleaning while I can edit book(s) and then start on more. They’re cleaning while I can tackle the spare room, the catch-all that is my office/craft room/hopefully have space for a guest bed once I’ve cleaned the junk out.

They’re cleaning while I look after the things that I want to look after. They’re cleaning while I take the time for myself to pursue my hobbies, my writing, and tackle other messy jobs. They’re cleaning so I can spend time with my daughter and husband on the weekends instead of cleaning and organizing and forever doing the dishes. They’re cleaning so my daughter and I can go on adventures and make crafts and go to the park and have fun together, instead of me having to wash floors and bathrooms.

Unfortunately, they’re not here every day, so the dishes still need to be done by us. But, without the other mountain of work to do, they don’t feel like the be-all end-all chore.

They’re cleaning while I take care of myself, helping me keep my migraines from becoming chronic, again.

They’re cleaning, so that when my daughter is being babysat by my parents, I can move forward with my dreams, instead of only cleaning.

Perhaps when my daughter is older and can help out much better than she can at 3 years old (though, she absolutely *loves* to help…making every task so much longer), perhaps when she is older and doesn’t leave a trail of destruction behind her I won’t have cleaners. Perhaps when she’s older and doesn’t need me as much, or even want me around, I won’t have cleaners and will be able to tackle the cleaning and cooking jobs as a family in just a few hours, rather than 3/4 hours a day, solo.

Or, maybe I’ll keep them. Because, why the fuck not?