How clean is your house?

I am convinced that once you have kids you've got two choices. Either you've got time for fun and parenting or you've got time to have a clean house. I'm thoroughly convinced that you can't do both. I've mentioned before my "essentials plus one" cleaning theory. I'm devoted to it because it is the absolute limit of my cleaning capacity and it maintains a perfect balance between sanity and appearing on the Foxtel "Hoarders" series. My mother in law claims that having a clean house is all about having "processes that work". For us the only process that would give us a clean house would involve four brand new shock collars and special dispensation from DOCS and the domestic violence network to use them for "reprogramming" purposes.

Today I cleaned our bathroom. It's only been two weeks since the last time it had a thorough clean but it is a perfect example of why there's no point trying to institute processes. Charlotte has the largest rubber duck collection known to four-year-old-kind. It is extensive, colourful and every single one of them is full of black mould. They have their own bucket - which I religiously put them into almost every single day - and yet the rubber ducky migration patterns continue. They are determined to make it into the central-heated-enabled hallway for the winter. The black mould infestation also resists my attempts to oust it. Charlotte will die of bleach poisoning before the mould succumbs to my manic ministrations of White King. We've talked over the possibility of allowing the ducks to move on to a new life (at the bottom of a landfill) and Charlotte has made it clear that this will cost me a lot in therapy later in life. So the ducks stay.

Then there's the mouth wash. In theory Charles and I are the only ones that use it but somehow there is forever a puddle of congealed evil-smelling green. Sometimes, for variety, the puddle manages to super glue a bobby pin or two to the surface of the vanity. If I'm lucky I'll notice it before the rust stain sets into the porcelain. How the rust can permeate the green when it takes me and my good pal Easy-off BAM a solid ten minutes of soaking followed by a frenzied bout of scrubbing remains a domestic mystery.

There are other bathroom horrors, too many and too disgusting to list here, but I always find myself mentally checking my dates to make sure it's only been two weeks since the last clean. Clearly there is a weird warp in the space time continuum that allows six months of soap scum to accumulate over a mere two weeks in my bathroom.

While we're on the subject of domestic matters, I should note that since I mentioned the "essentials plus one" method in my blog it seems that a number of you have adopted it with great success. It would be enormously ironic if I became associated with a cleaning movement that sweeps the nation (haha "sweeps" the nation, get it? - boom tish!). The E+1 (catchy, no?) method seems to work for the time-strapped domestic goddesses among us. Anyway, the positive reaction I've been getting has been enormously encouraging and I've been more diligent than ever in my attempts to achieve this goal. The results have been amazingly good. I seem to be slowly clawing my way forward in the domestic cleanliness stakes.

My Dad used to say that life is full of "have to dos" and "want to dos" and that it's important to make sure that the "have to dos" get done first so you can enjoy the "want to dos". Remember as you go through life that "have to dos" shouldn't always be about your chore list. Sometimes the most important "have to dos" aren't chores at all. So, with a nod to my Dad's domestic rules, I'd like to say that I "want" to have a clean house - but I "have" to be a good Mum. And that probably has more to do with the migrating ducks than the build-up of soap scum. Remember what's important folks - it's not always about the shiny clean surface.