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To Clean...or To Go?

You know, I've always held a certain level of disdain for mothers who abandon their families never to be seen again. I'll admit it, I've sat in self righteous judgment and thought, "Ooh, boy, some day they'll really regret that."
 
And then, last Sunday, I opened the door to the playroom. It was a black vortex of toydom gone wrong.
 
It was all I could do not to grab my car keys and lay a strip of rubber on the freeway entrance ramp as I left my home and family behind me in a spectacular cloud of dust.
 
So, I did what any postpartum hormone rage spiraling mother would do. I grabbed my cleaning supplies and began scrubbing bathrooms.
 
Apparently noticing my absence and hearing strange mumbling noises coming from the bathroom The Hubs came to investigate. Silly, silly man.
 
"Uh...what are you doing?" This from The Hubs.
"I'm cleaning the bathroom."
"Uh...why?"
"'Cause it's either clean or leave you guys."
 
This caused Hubs to pause for a moment. He may have been a little confused. Probably not the answer he was expecting. Then again, I do pride myself on keeping him on his toes, so he probably never knows what to expect.
 
"Uh..okay. You do know it's Sunday right?" Hubs again.  Sunday is a work-free day around here, so I understand his surprise.
 
This time I spared him a glance. I'm sure it was "Mom's Angry Face" as my six-year-old so lovingly calls it. "Yep. I'm pretty sure God would rather I clean the house than leave my family." This makes perfect sense to me!
 
"Well, maybe a drive would be good. You could get out for a while and just clear your head." Sweet, sweet Hubs. Trying so hard to help. So not understanding that a car is the last thing I should be given access to.
 
"I'd seriously end up in the sunny southern part of the state spending a week with my sister and you'd have to scramble to find someone to care for the kids. I think I'll just dust next instead."
 
Hubs finally left having found himself up against the proverbial wall.
 
I scrubbed, dusted, cleaned windows, swept, mopped, vacuumed, changed light bulbs and did dishes. My family cowered on the couch like gerbils in the face of a Cobra. (Who says rodents are dumb?)
 
When all was said and done I'd worked off my temporary hatred of being the mom and was kind of in a dull numb place where I knew one day I'd heal from this. Just to be safe, I ate some cookie dough until I was able to dredge up the guilt necessary to keep me in my place.
 
In the end I'd say I chose the less of two evils.  Sure, I may have broken the Sabbath just a bit. But, my family still had their wife and mother on the premises...well, at least the evil twin wife.
 
And...my house was clean! Well, at least until the gerbils felt safe enough to leave the couch.
 
To all those women who I previously misjudged as weak and selfish, now I understand. You must have had a playroom too!!

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