The Clean up Woman

Recognizing that I am not coping well with this whole 3 kids in 4 years and a 4th on the way thing, my husband has offered me something that no other man has given me before: maid service.

“I have a surprise for you babe,” he said gently, rubbing my shoulder. “Tomorrow morning I’m having some people come clean up the house.”

“For real?” I said through parched, ashy lips. “They’re going to dust and everything?”

“They’re going to do everything,” he assured. “Vacuum the stairs, dust the fans, mop the floors…they’ll even change the linens on the bed.”

As he started listing all the things that were “wrong” in the house, I took a mental snapshot of our home. It was filthy, wasn’t it? Filthy I say! This sent me into a tailspin and I spent the next hour trying to make my house look less like a disaster area. I know the point of hiring a cleaning lady/crew is to let them clean, but there is nothing worse than a woman, or a band of women, coming into your house and have them silently judging you…or judging you openly in Spanish about your poor housekeeping skills.

Ooooo, I can hear them now:

Look at her nasty baseboards.

Dios mio! Is that pubic hair on the floor next to the toilet?

I think I’m going to be sick.

*Shudder*. I hope I can get some sleep tonight. I’m suddenly having an urge to break out the Comet, bleach,yellow gloves and a gas mask. Lawd help me.