There is nothing I dread more these days than having to bend over to pick something up off of the floor. For the life of me, I just cannot remember pregnancy ever being as difficult or uncomfortable the first two times around as it is now.
When you live in a house with two little litterers, it is just appalling the amount of shite that accumulates on the floors. Coloring pages, hair bands, markers/crayons/pencils, random socks and other articles of clothing, cloth diapers, uneaten food items and enormous crumbs, baby dolls, books, blankets, pillows, and used tissues—these are just a smattering of items I’m observing from my spot at the table now. It’s as if these little people live to scatter every last one of their belongings about the house in an effort to undo me. Blow my nose? Check. Put tissue in the trash? Why? It looks so nice here next to the couch and the dog puzzle piece, don’t you think? Don’t they want their mother to be in a happy place?
And don’t even get me started on the oldest’s newest game of “treasure hunt,” in which she collects as fast as she can, random trinkets and toys and loads them into all the drawers in her dresser and shelves in her nightstand, so that when I go to put away laundry, or retrieve some item I need, I’m bombarded by an abundance of play kitchen food items, wooden building blocks, random stuffed animals and board books. Treasure, my ass. More like, going into the effing garbage and never coming back out again.
It used to be I could whip around the place and tidy up in no time. Granted, the litter was still annoying, but I was able to keep up and on top of the girls for the most part. But now, this garbage collector has run out of gas. I waddle about the house these days and wince every time I see the collective debris. It’s become so challenging to bend over, I just don’t do it. Instead, I try to enlist the girls’ help from time to time to do a big group clean-up. I can often set a timer and make a game of this. The oldest one has been really into beating the clock lately for any number of chores. However, just today she told me that she no longer likes the clean-up game. Great. And, the youngest usually just tells me flat-out no, she will not be helping me to pick up anything. I guess it’s good that I am very talented when it comes to using my toes as fingers. I’m able to pick up a lot with my feet.
Still, I’ve been struggling to get along tolerating much more mess on the floor these days. Even at school I have to ask the kids to pick up pencils or scraps of paper I’ve dropped, as well as to reach inside baskets I keep on the floors. At least there students are happy to help me out and respond favorably to my requests. Just five more weeks or so of this nonsense. I’m trying to enjoy it as it likely to be (read: better effing be!) the last time. But it’s really freaking hard.