The Art of Housekeeping

For those that know me, know, when it comes to housekeeping, I am NOT an artist. I was recently greeted (like a sledgehammer) with the realization that I have passed this unfortunate trait on to my children. My oldest daughter tries to outrun the monster, but alas, it consumes her as well. The other two don't even pretend. Each morning I wake with great intentions and then as the day wears on, I realize I've let it slip away without really accomplishing anything of real value in the area of housecleaning. My house in not dirty, so to speak...it's the clutter that seems to overwhelm us. I'm finding that if I don't de-clutter on a daily basis, we get buried in it. The counters are covered with it, the kitchen table is lost under it and my patience wears thin. How can a family of 5 generate so much paper clutter? (that's a rhetorical question) I won't even mention the closets. That's too painful... The truth is, I don't like to clean house. It's just not any fun. I suppose I'm a bit lazy as well. My mom graciously offers to help me on occasion, but who wants their mom to truly see how dirty their bathroom is. I mean, I'm a grown-up after all, I should be able to keep it clean.

It used to be extremely frustrating for me. And, to some degree, it still is. I love to have people over, but I really hate for them to see my messy house. Therein is my dilemma. I have come to believe I'm a neat and organized person; trapped in a messy, unorganized persons body. I'm sure I was in an episode of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers". What a cruel joke. Flylady tells me to take baby-steps. I would, if I didn't keep stepping on toys with every one. Again...I prayerfully proceed and ask God to help me learn and to teach my children to be better than the example I have set for them.