Death by Cleaning


October 26, 2012 by Julia

I know people have theoretically died of a broken heart. Sometimes I feel like I might die of cleaning. Around 5:30 pm, I can’t see my way out. The other morning I sat on an unpeeled banana that Jack had left on the couch, and I unknowingly mashed it everywhere as I wrestled a brush through the tangles in Fiona’s hair. Isn’t that a lovely image?

When they perform my autopsy next week, I assume they’ll find three causes of death:

  1. Exhaustion/frustration/depression due to excessive, futile exercises in cleaning house
  2. Stresssssssss
  3. Sensory overload (due to nonstop needy noises and lack of personal space), resulting in my brain shutting down


A big part of this is all of the weddings this month. As I mentioned before – I LOVE being at weddings, especially when they involve people near and dear to my heart. But I hate packing. And because every time we leave the house with both kids we require 1 to approximately 20 bags, there has been a lot of packing this month. And while I pack, the kids destroy. I protect the luggage; everything else goes down the shitter. (Luckily, not literally – yet.)

One Saturday morning I was mentally immobilized by the quagmire of it all. I realized later the thing that makes packing so hard is the preparation for worst-case scenarios. And when you combine the worst-case scenarios involving children AND a wedding, that’s a lot of “just in case” crap. Fiona was going to be the flower girl, and I could imagine her rejecting her new shoes midway down the aisle (sensitive feet) and possibly throwing them at a groomsman just to make her point. Hence the 4 pairs of backup shoes that I kept moving into different bags. Should these be in my purse? They don’t fit. Put them a random plastic bag? Or a tote bag. But all of my tote bags are full. And at least with a plastic bag, everyone knows you aren’t trying. It’s just a plastic bag, not a fashion faux pas.  Okay, do I need an icepack for the groomsman’s head? How will I keep the icepack cold until Fiona throws her shoes mid-ceremony? (This is my brain. This is my brain while packing for children.) Dennis asked at one point, “Do you want me to carry some bags out to the car?” and I responded, “No. What I want you to do is take me out back and shoot me.” He pointed out that we don’t actually have a backyard. Ugh! It’s always something!

Anyway, I am piecing together this blog post from other random snippets I’ve written this month, when I should be PACKING UP THE DIAPER BAG as usual. Mary Poppins had it so freaking easy. Whatever she needed was just in that magical carpetbag. God forbid I forget the Spacetime Goldfish Supremes, or whatever.

Also, this was supposed to be about death by cleaning, not packing. How about both?


9 thoughts on “Death by Cleaning

  1. Lisa says:

    Your use of “quagmire” made me think of the Quagmire Triplets in “A Series of Unfortunate Events” books – apparently both appropriate there and in your blog. :/

  2. Lisa says:

    Also… lol@Dennis’s backyard comment

  3. Hahaha, I am rolling on the floor. This is by far the funniest blog article I have read in weeks.

  4. Brittany says:

    On a brighter note, no shoes were thrown!

  5. Kerrie says:

    Hello! I know this is kinda off topic but I was wondering if you knew where I could get a captcha plugin for my comment form?
    I’m using the same blog platform as yours and I’m having problems finding
    one? Thanks a lot!

  6. […] know how I feel about packing up the family for big outings or trips. It’s gotten easier since I decided this year to truly […]

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