A Forced Indulgence
Prior to having a dog I prided myself on having a floor that you could eat off.
Then one day, I was told to steer clear of anything that could possibly be harmful to a pregnancy. In addition to things like exercise, in my mind this included all toxic chemicals and household chemicals (I cannot remember for-sure if any doctor ever stated this included household chemicals exactly or if it was just my neurotic RPL brain that made the link – the RPL brain is a seriously screwed up thing). Either way, I immediately and completely gave up cleaning our house.
It didn’t take long before I saw the flaw in this plan. The toilets started to have that gross looking ring. The sinks were less then clean as it turns out I shed hair all the time. The dog fur balls on the floor started to make me question if we were trying to grow a new puppy. The glass-top oven (my nemesis) started to have more and more cooked on rings of food that I could not get off. The carpets, well we wont even talk about those (evidently not being able to use cleaning chemicals also meant that I wasn’t able to use a vacuum).
At this point, Mr. MPB was trying to take care of me during miscarriages and high risk pregnancies, working a very demanding job and trying to clean the house. He got a gold star for effort, for everything. But the reality is, even if he had no other responsibilities then just cleaning the house, he had no hope of ever meeting my standards. Evidently we have different versions of “clean.”
So, we started searching for a house cleaner. We knew we wanted the same person time every time, someone who was good with dogs and preferably a small company or individual. We did trials as we brought in a number of individual cleaners and told them we’d call them back if we wanted to make it a permanent arrangement. One time, we honestly could not figure out what someone did in our house for 4 hours. Needless to say, the search did not go well.
But then one day, it was as if the heavens opened up and we met the perfect duo – two amazing sisters. They use great products. They do a great job. They are reliable. We trust them.
So now that we are adopting and not trying for a biological child, I can go near any chemical I want with no risk to a child, just me (which does not rate quite as high on the scale for some reason).
Yet, I have no desire to start cleaning my house again. I love not doing the deep clean. I love that every two weeks someone else comes in and takes care of it all. And I think Mr. MPB loves it too.
In fact, I love this little luxury so much that while money is tight due to our adoption, this is one thing I really don’t want to let go of.
And so, I’m not.
We’ve compromised on so many other aspects of our lives to afford this adoption, but this is one I’m not compromising on.
I know it’s a luxury and I am beyond thankful for it. In fact, I’ve told Mr. MPB that he can consider this my birthday and Christmas present for the rest of my life (although I did suggest that he is still welcome to still buy me other gifts, because seriously I am human and I do enjoy nice gifts from time to time).
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