Channeling my inner Cinderella

I might have mentioned before, I've been really lousy at cleaning lately. It's just so much more fun to read a book and crochet (I do the crocheting so I can pretend that I'm being productive, thus justifying the insane number of books I've read in the past 3 months).

But every once in a while, I look around in my house and I'm completely disgusted at what I've been living in. Really. It's been gross. This usually results in approx 48 hours of mad cleaning. I love the feel of my house when it's clean. One of the problems is my house is so small I can clean the whole thing in one day (and I mean some deep cleaning if I really put my mind to it.) This means that I don't actually have to clean every day (other than dishes, the bane of my existence). Which means I let it slide, really far sometimes.

Anyway. My 48 hours started yesterday. Today I cleaned the kitchen. Really cleaned. I was wiping down cupboards, scrubbing the top of the fridge, scouring sinks - the whole works. I even decided to hand scrub my floor. I don't know about you guys, but I know my floor gets much cleaner when I'm on my hands and knees really putting some muscle into it.

My kids (I thought) were thoroughly engrossed in NickJr.com. I filled my bucket up, pulled out my scrub brush, and went to work. It was kind of fun. I really don't clean my floor nearly as often as I should. I had some fun music on, and was just kind of going at it. Enter Buddy boy.

"But Mom, Dad is my bucket for da eggs" (Ok, I'll admit it. We've lived in this place for over a year and I still haven't unpacked my mop bucket. My kitchen is shaped such that it's easier to just fill the sink instead. But do it by hand I needed something, and I did in fact pull out his Easter bucket. I honestly thought I'd be done before they noticed.)

"Yes it is Buddy. I'm cleaning the floor."

"But Mamma, why you do dat?"

Enter Girly-Lou.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

"I'm Cleaning the floor."

"But, you should mop it, Mom. When are you going to get the mop out. Why aren't you using the mop?"

"Because I'm doing it this way instead."

"But Mom!" - it went on, and on, and on. Almost the entire time I cleaned. My kids were so confused at why on earth I would be doing something so odd as to scrub my floor.

Obviously, Cinderella I am not. I think it's a sign I'm not cleaning enough when my kids are absoulty shocked and confused to see me on my hands and knees scrubing.