Living in a war zone

I taught piano from 3:00 to 5:00 p.m. tonight. I clean the house pretty thoroughly before piano, and it stays clean while I teach because the kids are usually in their room or outside with a babysitter.

After teaching, I made dinner, ate dinner, read stories to the kids, and got them ready for bed. It is now 8:15.

The kitchen: While there aren’t any dishes besides the ones we dirtied making and eating dinner, there are napkins all over the table, hand towels strewn on the floor, a tortilla on the floor, and random toys and a hat mixed in.

The office: An inflatable pool toy, 8 pairs of shoes, a kiddie chair (upended), a book, a random strap thingy, my purse, a drawing, and a sippy cup, are on the floor.

Living room: I don’t even want to start. Duplo got into the diaper bag (which Lego got out of the closet), books are everywhere, and there’s a sleeping bag draped over the couch for some reason. Oh, and a few toys are out, just because someone felt like maybe it was too orderly in there.

Three hours. It took three hours to get the house from being neat and clean to looking like wolves have lived in it for three days.

It seems like it’s getting worse by the day, too. My only consolation is that Lego sometimes helps me pick up toys now.

The truth is, I’m tired of picking up after kids who just destroy things mere minutes later. Sometimes I just want to give up and let them live in their mess. But I can’t; it drives me nuts not to have a clean house, and even if it didn’t, I do try not to force my piano students to step over piles of clutter when they come for their lessons.

This is definitely one of the things no one tells you about having children. Ugh.