Where's dad?

As much as I hate to admit it, my house isn't always clean.  Doug and I clean in very different ways.  When I clean, I want things to be in their permanent spot and organized, so cleaning takes an eternity - besides the fact that I frequently change my mind about how to best organize.  Doug on the other hand puts everything into one pile, generally kind of hides it, and the room in clean.  I hate that pile - it takes me months to go through, sort, file, throw away, etc, not to mention losing things and late bills.  I make LOTS of piles.  A pile of things that need to go downstairs, a pile of things that need filed, a pile of clothes that are too small and need to go in a box - you get the point.  Doug starts with the little things like making sure the movies are in their correct cases and I start with the big things like making sure the couch is in the right place.  Doug hates the way I clean and I hate the way he cleans and we have learned to live with that.

So today when Brenden got home, the house was totally clean - no plethora of piles and the countertops were even sanitized.  The first words out of Brenden's mouth: "Where's dad?"  

Now this isn't the first time this has happened.  Once in Pocatello I spent an afternoon cleaning out the boys' closet, washing sheets, making beds, organizing, etc.  When 3 boys share a tiny closet, well, the results aren't pretty.  When 3 boys share a small room, the results are even worse.  Brenden came home from preschool and immediately said, "Wow, dad did a great job on my room!"  I told him it was me and looked at me like I was a LIAR.

I hate when my house is a mess.  It makes me want to pack everything back into boxes and start all over.  I like to blame it on the fact that Doug wasn't home the day we moved in and nothing ever got formally organized in a functional manner.  Directing 4 movers and keeping 3 little boys out from under their feet at the same time didn't work, so the movers put things wherever the heck they wanted.  I still have things I can't find, but I am consoled knowing that my neighbor in Pocatello used my hand mixer for a full year because she never found hers.  Doug likes to say that we haven't properly trained the boys to clean up after themselves (which is largely true, but I really like things in their spot, so I do it myself - it just takes me a while).  The real reason (in my opinion): We have too much stuff.

But, for the meantime, my house (okay, we'll stick with the upstairs) is clean and I feel good about that.  I dread the fact that in a moment I am going to walk down the stairs to the playroom from hell...  (Remember the flood?  Now there is flood disaster + afternoon of Nolan alone while I talked with Ethan's developmental specialists.)

That was supposed to be the end of this post - ending on a dramatic note, but speaking of the development specialists:

They were fun and Ethan loved them.  I look forward to working with them.  Ethan is the first child with hearing loss they have ever seen in their 9 years working with the early intervention program (birth-age 3).  They told me about some great resources here that I have been searching for since before we moved.  I feel like something was accomplished today beyond cleanliness.