A number of years ago I watched my first episode of Jon & Kate Plus Eight. I am not now, nor have I ever been an avid viewer of the show, which probably has a lot to do with that first experience.
She was hiring a housekeeper and I found her standards to be completely unrealistic - meaning she required more than the bare minimum I consider acceptable and, thereby made me feel guilty about my own pathetic cleaning efforts which led to the old standard female-fallback - annoyance and disgust. Because being inspired to raise my own standards would have just been too much work.
What woman, I wondered, with eight kids underfoot, really has time to care about getting on hands and knees to scrub the dining room floor daily? This woman was too much for me.
Fast forward my life to three kids later and I'm feeling all sorts of sorry for that judgment (well, ok, I feel bad, anyway, for judging, but that's an issue God and I are working on; for now we'll focus on the point of this story).
Lately I've been patting myself on the back for the mere act of sweeping once a day instead of my former goal to shoot for, which was once a week.
Stop judging - it's not nice.
I was feeling pretty darn good about myself, really, while trying not to brag - because that's not nice, either.
And then this afternoon, as we ate lunch, my littlest guy, who is generally allowed to roam like wild bison (we don't call them buffalo in these here parts), as long as he keeps his act together and makes good choices, found his way under the table where the rest of us sat, and spread himself out prostrate on the ground to - yes, I'm serious - lick the floor.
Apparently there were still remainders of chips and cheese from last night's Doritos Locos Nachos (our home-made take on the wonderful Tacos one can purchase in the Drive-Thru - we're still not judging, remember? That includes my nutritional choices), and this little guy was not letting this golden opportunity slip through his fingers, or his one tooth.
Clearly my once-a-day efforts are still lacking.
Thus, as I swept these small particles together while the kids napped, thinking how I might need to be pulling that broom out a little more often than I have been, I suddenly recalled that crazy, Type-A, Neat Freak on TLC.
She had six of these scroungers wriggling on her floor. At once.
And it all made sense.
Perhaps my hands and knees could use a little more time on the floor, as well.
So, I'm sorry, Kate. I just needed to say that.
I still don't think it's necessary to dust behind the movies on the shelf, but I'll let that one go.
962. The way her little feet curl up like a monkey's as she holds her workbook in her lap
963. Sitting in a circle on the floor, crushing candies for the greater good
964. Stained glass cookies shimmering in the window
965. A tent in the living room
For those of you missing the photos of the day, please note how my heart is breaking that I have no photo of those precious heart-shaped cookies hanging like a banner along our dining room window. My camera is currently missing and, should it choose to return home, will return to much rejoicing and, possibly (but probably not) a fattened calf.