apparently

First of all, of course, houses don't really get dirty without kids. When I had to look decent at work, but I hadn't done the laundry, there was no worry. I'd grab some khakis worn a few days ago, and wear them again not imagining there could be giant hand prints of jelly or rotten fruit in the pocket or whatever.

We'd clean the house somewhat regularly, and what seems more surprising now, successfully. My sister called our house "immaculate" on one stay. Now, even when "get the house in shape" is a week long project, I just can't escape the fear that a guest might kick a few dried apples from under the radiators or be bothered by the giant stacks of non-toddler-allowed stuff looming around from all the high-enough-to-not-be-climbed-up-to-this-month surfaces.

And running out of clothes, which means all the clothes are in fact, actually dirty, is serious. I've mentioned that I'm a stay at home parent, and so I have both the job of washing the clothes and the horror of showing up in the park with old yogurt and banana mush on both my and my child's pants. (This is a different problem from "same clothes on toddler for 2nd or 3rd day in a row," which isn't actually so bad, at least among friends, at least my friends.) So we don't skip laundry too much.

But the phenomena I find most fascinating is that house work is just so darned compatible with small kids. Kids hate parents on the phone. Kids hate parents relaxing with a newspaper or book. Kids hate parents working on the computer (this blog being written as the toddler sleeps and I actively hide from the other people in the house). If I pick up that sudoku puzzle, the toddler, with a piercing soprano scream, yells, "No, down, no 8 9, read back-hoe book." I'm taking a few classes in meteorology, and even scribbling little bits of math (how precious to my, ah what's that called, oh yes, adult identity) on paper are cause for grave concern in the toddler, and resigned disappointment in the first grader.

But start folding clothes, and they even want to help. The toddler can play happily for long stretches of clothes folding, sometimes putting his clothes away, sometimes just running around. And the toddler is the soap-helper.

I can putter around for hours making complex (by my earlier standards) dinners (that I at least will appreciate). There will be demands for stirring soup or pouring the spices, maybe a request for pre-dinner snacks, but largely my work is not seen as a serious problem by the kids. They fight over cracking eggs.

Vacuuming the floors? The only problem is that some kids insist on doing it themselves but aren't yet quite as thorough as I might prefer.

Searching for missing toys? What a great game.

Shopping deserves a whole separate blog entry, but suffice to say that although I curse the people that put the candy so low, the store can be a high point of interactive play. Along with cooking, shopping feels like I'm allowing my kids to have experience with the world: making choices about which one treat they'll get (and how many treats the first grader will argue into the category of non-treats); seeing me carefully inspect the food for rottenness; talking to neighbors; cleaning up after pulling a rack of cards down.

And I am more into the rhythms of housework than before. I don't even bother to mind the orange stuff that grows in the toilet bowl; I just notice it (eventually) and surreptitiously (because the toddler loves the brush) clean it. I get suffused with happiness on those rare moments when there are no dirty clothes in the house. I know more where stuff in the house is than I used to, even more than my wife does. (This is a huge role reversal - I've been one of the most absent minded people ever.) I like pre-washing the dishes before putting them in the machine for washing. I like having a delicate load and a load of all pink clothes. I'm at a party, and the subject of stains comes up, and I get more animated. Sigh.

PS A little disclaimer here. My actual ability at housework is, while not off the charts of "community standards," is always perilously close to the edge. Definitely on the messy side of the spectrum. Untidy is the word we use. I once bragged in the park about having all the clothes we owned cleaned, and I was immediately taken back to reality by the mom I was speaking with asking me if they were all hung up as well! They were not.

The crazy thing is we've never spent so much time and energy tidying and cleaning. Hopefully as the kids become less messy, we'll still do a decent portion of the same cleaning now, and live in that tidy and clean house we spend so much time imagining.

PPS If you want to contact me, please do so! chris@austin-lane.net I do periodically get swamped and don't read email very soon, but I do read it all.