The kitchen floor.
That damn kitchen floor.
It’s my nemesis. I stare at it every day. The filth that that piles up under that little inch that the cabinet covers like an awning to filth.
Do I do anything about this kitchen floor? Rarely.
I’ll give it a good sweep but getting on my hands and knees to get in those tight corners and under the stove, or to mop, is few and far in between.
But I still stare at it. Every day. Multiple times a day. By the end of the week I can tell you where every crumb and miniscule piece of food that is not easily reachable is on that floor…okay, many are (embarrassingly) reachable.
Now, Praise the Lord! Every other Friday that floor gets the scrub of a life time.
Because I have a cleaning angel.
She comes to my house twice a month a now and leaves it better than it’s ever looked. She can accomplish more in two hours than I do in two weeks. I don’t know how. She even uses all natural, good, organic-y cleaners. She is a cleaning rock star. A cleaning goddess. My cleaning angel she is.
Right before Asher’s first chemo I flipped out. FLIPPED out. Tears, anxiety, near shaking nerves, the whole breakdown. For years I would try so hard to keep the house clean and I end up just barely making it CDC acceptable. And here I was about to bring home a child after chemo who would be susceptible to any cold, diseases, every germ, and it would wreck him. This sweet delicate sick baby will be living in my horrible, horrible, dirty house. How was I supposed to handle all the medical stuff, a preschooler, and keep a sterile home?
My grandmother stepped in and saved me. Like good grandmother’s do. They know what’s up. Seriously.
She hired a cleaning angel. Just to have someone come in to do the deep cleaning in the bathrooms and kitchen, makes it 300 times easier to maintain the house.
Even though I so outwardly hate cleaning, and even have a blog based around the fact that it’s not my strong suit, it was still an incredibly humbling experience hiring help. I shouldn’t need help. I should be able to take care of my family myself. Why should someone else have to clean up after my inadequacies?
But I needed it. My family needed it. We needed as much help in every area of our life as we could get. I had to humble myself, admit I couldn’t do it all, and most of all I had to stop attempting to do it all.
The angel I speaking of is also a good friend. Someone who has now seen my laundry that has been under the bed for who knows how long, the “in-joke” and encouraging messages I try to leave for my husband on our bathroom mirror, the moths living in my oatmeal (ew!), and most of all she has seen my mess. She has seen that I am not perfect.
Boy has she.
On Friday, I came home from a busy day, completely forgetting my cleaning angel was going to come, and started crying when I saw the kitchen and bathrooms.
(To be honest I walked in the house immediately saw that the carpet had been vacuumed and spent the next 30 seconds so confused as to how it got that way –was I really that tired that I forgot that I had vacuumed? …Oh sleep, I miss you.)
But real tears, yes. I can’t tell you how much the help is a relief to me these days. Not that I am super busy at the moment, most of my obligations have been cut out of my life when Asher was diagnosed, but when life is kicking your ass, cleaning your kitchen floor is the last thing to happen.
Now, I’ve posted on why you should ask for help, but more and more the impact of not only asking for help but receiving the help truly makes is still astounding me. It’s been one of the most humbling and beneficial parts of this whole cancer experience. I can no longer fake it, pretend I can do it myself, only to fail, be embarrassed, hide it, then try to fake it some more. Our issues are too important and I have far to much emotionally to deal with, that I just can’t pretend to hold up the world on my own anymore.
I am so much of a better woman for it.
So to you my cleaning Angel, I love you. I adore you. And please, oh, please, never tell anyone what you see in my home. 🙂