It's an old quote, and I'm not sure where I read it, but it equates trying to keep a clean house when you have small children to shoveling while the snow is still falling. Today is one of those days when I just feel worn down by the overwhelming amount of completely repetitive work. I got up and vaccumed the rug because the kids had popcorn last night (hands down, the messiest snack ever). So I vacuumed and swept before I had any coffee, because the mess was making me crazy. Then I folded blankets, put away stuffed animals, made breakfast, tossed in another load, folded another load, started cleaning Jessie's bedroom and then made lunch. Now I'm looking at a messy living room that needs to be vacuumed once again, I still have another load to wash and at least three more to fold, Jessie's room STILL isn't done, and I'm just sort of depressed about it all.
Not depressed. Just out of sorts about it. This is my life right now - and there are many, many parts of it that are amazing and wonderful and I'm very grateful for it. But I really hate housework, I hate laundry because it's never ever done, I've got five kids here and for some reason, I literally never have any clean cups.
Duty calls... back to my never-ending quest to not have my children raised in squalor.