The "Clean Underwear" theory of housekeeping

I think almost all of us, growing up, heard one version or another of the warning "don't forget to wear clean underwear in case you're in an accident" from our parents.  Or grandparents.  I have no idea why they were so concerned with the state of my Holly Hobbie panties, but apparently they lived in deathly fear that I would be in (or cause) a car accident, and the paramedics would cut off my undies and find a skid mark and somehow think that I was so unhygienic that I wasn't worth saving.  Or something.

Or, now that I'm a parent myself, they were more likely afraid they'd see dirty underpants and assume that I had terrible parents who didn't bother to bathe me everyday and make sure my clothes were clean.  I know that's what I'd be worried about with DQ and WMB.  Especially WMB, since he's still in that "learning to wipe properly" stage that apparently affects little boys, and some not so little boys, well into adolescence (or, possibly, adulthood).

Of course, when a form of that argument was used against me the last time, I was in my twenties and my mother saw my "underlovlies" (Her word, not mine.  But I must admit, they were lovely.) and exclaimed "what if you were in an accident and the doctors saw what type of underwear you're wearing!" 

Now, it's not like I was wearing leopard-print crotchless panties or anything, but they were nice undies that came with an equally nice tariff as they were French.

Anyway, she apparently thought that if I wasn't wearing some form of clean granny panties, the doctors were going to make fun of me.  Or, think my mom was a bad parent for letting her MARRIED twenty-something daughter wear a lovely strip of lace that would show no VPL (visible panty lines).

My retort was that I hoped they gave the merest fraction of a second's appreciation before they cut the things off.  And, that most likely, I would have already wet myself from the accident already so clean unmentionables was already a moot point.

Mom was not amused.

Anyway, I know you're thinking "how the heck does clean underwear have anything to do with clean houses?"  And here's the kicker--along with the "clean underwear" theory, my mom was also reminding us to make sure the house (and our rooms) were clean, especially if we were going on vacation.  In case a burglar broke in and thought we were slobs.

Yes, I was raised to take the aesthetic appreciations of petty felons into consideration at all times when cleaning.

And, years later, as much as I realize that my mom's theory is completely and utterly ridiculous (I totally and absolutely love her to death, but it is a crazy thought!),  I still make sure the house is pretty straightened up when I leave.  Especially on vacation.

I claim it's because I don't want to come home to a cluttered, dirty house after the stress of getting home and unpacking after a vacation.  I say it's because my in-laws are coming over to pick up the mail/paper and feed our fish/hermit crabs/whatever.

But, I would be totally horrified if someone broke in and thought they ought to call Hoarders instead of wiping us out of our old, partially decrepit, ancient electronics and our jar of quarters for MacGyver to use at work for parking.

Or, worse yet, someone would come over and think we'd been robbed since the house was a mess.  And, I'd have to admit that's just the way we lived.   (Actually, this is a true story.  Happened to a family I knew.  Now, that would be embarrassing!)

So, mom--you can be proud of me.   I almost always have clean underpants on, and my house is ready for a burglar to admire it and possibly leave me a kind note about the quality of my housekeeping and the lovely vanilla/sandalwood scent of my home-made cleansers.  You taught me well.

Systems? I have systems?

Okay, I have gotten some requests from friends about what to blog about, and the overwhelming requested topics are:  cleaning, organizing, cleaning, cooking, and cleaning.  Notice a trend?

So, I guess I'm going to start off with cleaning.

Apparently, a lot of you think I have this amazingly clean house.  And, I admit, it's pretty clean.  I don't aim for perfection, just basic non-disgustingness and a bare minimum of hygiene.  I'd rather not walk across my kitchen floor and have my sock get left behind in a sticky puddle of who-knows-what--but, I'm usually not freaking out over kid clutter (unless it's LEGOS and I've stepped on one).  I think of my home as an impressionist painting--a Monet, say--where it all looks pretty from far away.  But up close, not so much.  There's dust in my corners.  There's sticky goo on top of my refrigerator and cabinets (I suspect it's from those non-stick sprays).  There are fingerprints and actually LICK prints on my windows (really--what makes my kids want to lick the freaking windows?  Yuck!  Nothing like a dried, crunchy, peanut buttery tongue print on the front door to make you want to vomit up your breakfast on the way to the bus stop.)

So, anyway, there has been a request for my "system" (I like that word!  Better than routines or "to do's", which I have way too many of anyhow).  I didn't think I even had a system, until a neighbor mentioned it, but I guess I do.  It's very, very loosely based on The FLY Lady system in that I really hate to do anything for very long, so about 15-20 minutes at a time is all I can stand.  The FLY Lady also has really cute phrases, like "swish and swipe" that I think are great, and I use those too.

So, my mornings go something like this:  wake up when the kids bound into my bed and start screaming for breakfast.  Scrape the sheets off of whatever bed I'm washing that day (Monday, master bedroom; Tuesday, DQ's bed; Wednesday, WMB's bed) or towels I'm washing (Monday or Tuesday, and Friday).  Stumble down stairs and throw that load in the washing machine and then make first pot of coffee while simultaneously taking down the requests for breakfast from the resident inmates munchkins.  "Pancakes! With bacon!  And sausage, but not the icky kind, the yummy kind! (???) And eggs!"  Yeah, I'll get right on it....  Ahh, coffee.....

So, feed the munchkins breakfast and listen to their complaints ("I wanted chocolate chips and Nutella on my pancakes!"  "sorry kiddo, that's called dessert, not breakfast", "I don't want this anymore, can I have a smoothie?" "Ah, no.  Eat what I made or starve until snacktime.") while I try to finish at least one cup of coffee while it's still hot.  Or, luke warm.  Oh heck, add some ice cubes and pretend it's an iced coffee from Dunkin' Donuts...

Get everyone dressed and teeth brushed (a quick "swish and swipe" after the spitting is done) and drag the laundry basket of recent filth down to the laundry room.  Track down shoes, backpacks, and make lunches for school.  Get everyone out the door.  Change laundry around from washer to dryer, and start next load.  Get WMB in van and drive to preschool.  Run errands or crawl back home for more coffee.

Back at home, I clean up breakfast, sweep kitchen floor, and remember I haven't taken a shower yet.  Smell pits and decide I can get away with an extra swipe of Secret and pretend I was planning on going to the gym to workout anyway, so there's no point in showering now.  Switch laundry again, and make whatever bed I was washing.  Collapse on bed and dream about a nap.  Decide to play on Facebook instead, and promptly lose an hour and a half to mindless surfing...

Oh crap!  Now realize I have to pick up WMB from school and make lunch.  Remember that I was supposed to get gas, pick up prescriptions, go to the bank, and return the library books this morning. Panic.  Pick up WMB, run errands, and make it home for lunch.

My afternoon is a quick vacuuming of either the living room or a bedroom, wiping down the kitchen, and a quick spiff up before MacGyver comes home and trips on a toy firetruck or errant LEGO, and remembering to unlock the front door to let DQ in when the bus drops her off (thank Maude the bus stop is my driveway!). 

But, whatever household chores I do, I limit it to only a few minutes.  As I've said before, I get a bit sidetracked and forget things.  Like my child coming home from school.  At the same time.  Every day.  For the last 8 months.  Sorry DQ!

Only doing a few things a day, not cleaning the whole house at one time, makes things so much easier.  I don't try to scrub the bathrooms on the same day I'm vacuuming.   And I only vacuum a couple rooms a day.  I despise washing windows, so I only do a few at a time.  I'm not thrilled with kiddo crap all over the house, so I limit them to toys in their rooms or the basement so I'm not using a snow shovel to clean the living room every day.  I hate searching for shoes, so there's baskets at the front and back doors for shoes.  I love the smell of a "clean house", so I use vinegar and water with a bit of essential oil (currently, lavender bought with a 40% off coupon at Michael's.  But I also like eucalyptus and mint.) and spray it liberally around.  Especially right before MacGyver comes home. 

Hint:  wiping down the kitchen counters and maybe the downstairs bathroom with cleaner right before your sweetie comes home makes it smell like you've been cleaning and scrubbing all day.  When, really, I've only put in a couple 15 minute spurts of energy and managed to keep up with FB and watch the Real Housewives of Wherever.

But the big thing is, I don't try to do it all at once.  Doing a little at a time is fine by me.  I'm not aiming for perfection.  I'm aiming to control what I can with as little effort as possible.  Cleaning a little each day means things rarely get completely out of control.  Running a load or two of laundry a day means I don't have to waste my weekend folding clothes and ironing.  And I really, really hate ironing.  Even more than emptying the dishwasher.  Which, by the way, FLY Lady says to run at night so you can have the joy of waking up to a fresh load of dishes each morning.  While I do run the washer at night, right after baths, I DO NOT find an ounce of joy in a fresh load of anything.  It actually kind of pisses me off that I have to start my day off with emptying the dishwasher so I can find my favorite coffee mug, but a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do.  Especially when MacGyver's not home so I can whine to him to empty it.

So, I say, make a list of chores and break them up into little 15-20 minute jobs and spread them out over the whole week.  Doing a quick FLY Lady swish and swipe (The "swipe" is where you spray vinegar and water or Windex on the mirrors and counters of the bathroom and wipe it all down really quickly each morning.  You really don't need a special cleaner for everything.  Vinegar and water--or, if you're more "My Big Fat Greek Wedding", then use Windex--works great.  The "swish" is running the toilet scrubber around the toilet bowl to get all the ickys down the drain.  Putting a sliver of leftover soap in the bottom of the scubber holder is great for daily cleaning of the toilets.  Irish Spring is especially fresh smelling in the bowl!) won't take more than a minute or two, and keeps you from having to scrub the bathroom so much.  Throwning all the dishes in the dishwasher right after a meal keeps the kitchen looking nice, and keeps me from freaking out at the end of the day when I find dishes in the sink with petrified egg yolk from breakfast (then I have to scrub, not just rinse the plates.)  I also like to ProMist the floor after I put the kids to sleep.  I make the solution with my ubiquitous vinegar and water.  And a wet kitchen floor forces me to stay in my living room (it's kind of like painting myself into a corner) and relax.  It also makes a really convenient excuse for why I can't come upstairs (again) to get DQ/WMB another drink of water (or snack or whatever); and they can't come downstairs to bug us ("Sorry bunnies!  The floor's wet!")

So, really, that's all I do to keep the house clean.  Do a few things each day, and use shortcuts whenever I can.  That's my "system".  Now pardon me--I need to put the lunch dishes away and catch up on RHONJ...