Spic And Span...

My house is clean. Most of the time. When people come over it is rare that there is a ginormous mess awaiting them. (I guess I should clarify upstairs. Downstairs is kid-domain). I vacuum. I mop. I constantly wipe counters and sweep. And, I shut a lot of doors. This helps keep the kid-domain areas out of any onlookers eyesight. Closets. Man. The bane of my existence. Cleaning them anyway. That is my secret to keeping this house clean. I just place things on some random shelf behind a door that doesn't need to be opened, and the house appears clean. I feel good about that. I always have. Until this month. I knew it was coming. When putting a house up for sale, apparently people like to open those closet doors. All of them. That is 5 clothing closets, 3 bathroom linen closets, front entry coat closet, laundry room closet, basement toy closet, and one ginormous storage room under the porch. That is a lot of closets to hide things in. That is forgetting all the kitchen cupboards completely. After speaking with the realtor Monday it was decided that Saturday would be the day he came to take pictures and place the house on the market. That gives me 5 days and then until noon on Saturday to completely scour this house. And don't forget painting that new mantle Shawn installed while he was home last weekend. Oh. And Presley has RSV. Well, not diagnosed RSV. But the same symptoms. Which means Albuterol treatments every 6 hours amidst countless coughing spells which lead to spewing, which in turn gives me more to clean up. And the needing to be held issue. Wow. No wonder I've been eating everything in sight the last few days. I'm obviously a stress eater. Yesterday morning I wised up while I was in the shower. As I looked at the soap scum build up under my feet and trailing the shower doors (I also hate cleaning showers) it occurred to me that maybe I couldn't do it alone. The closets could only be done by me. But. The shower? I found a cleaning lady on a good recommendation and gave her a call. Cutest Chinese lady I have ever spoken with. After I arranged for her to come, I found myself more stressed than I was previously. Why? I was feeling the need to clean before she came. I continuously had to hold myself back and remind myself that I was paying her to do this job. Not hiring her to critique the mess I've gotten myself into. Still. After I sent the kids off to school, regardless of the fact I was functioning on a broken 5 hours of sleep, I still scrubbed the kitchen sink. And cleaned 5 kitchen cupboards. I started on the girls room when she arrived. I showed her the infamous shower, she shook her little head and giggled. Mentioning how much work this was going to be. Only when she said it I didn't cringe. I giggled alongside her. Mostly because then I was able to turn on my heels and leave her to all the nitty-gritty work. I went back and worked on the girls room some more. Cleaned a few more kitchen cupboards. Made lunch. Made sugar cookie dough and the frosting. And all the while fumes of deep cleaning were wafting in the air. It was like I had just pushed a button labeled "clean" and walked out of the room. It was cleaning itself. With the help of one adorable little woman. After the shower was scrubbed and I had given my approval, she finished up my bathroom while her helper worked on the main bathroom. I drove Jack to preschool and when I returned they were finished. I couldn't stop smiling as I signed a check for her. Best money ever spent. So, why was I so scared to have her come? Was it the fact that when someone is cleaning your house they are actually seeing inside your soul? Because it lets them see what you are like on the surface, and what you are like deep inside? They can see what is deemed high on the ladder of importance and what things are obviously neglected? Probably all of the above. Not to even speak about the whole "I can do it all myself" phenomenon us women put ourselves through. Well, I'm glad I stepped out of my little comfort zone box and hired this job out. I actually feel lighter today. My stress level has definitely decreased. My only regret? I didn't have them clean the downstairs bathroom.