My dirty little secrets

Guess what? I have a cleaning lady. In the colloquial sense of that phrase, not like I own a human being who sleeps under the couch.

It has taken me quite some time to get used to the idea of having help cleaning house, even back when I was finishing my dissertation full time, or when A started going to daycare. But I'm finally learning how much it helps to have help with the house. I still do the shopping, and recycling, and M and I split the laundry. I cook most nights, dinners that I'm happy to put in front of A. But I rarely do dishes anymore, or clean the floors (which run rampant with dog hairs, but not, due to the dog's tongue, rampant with food around the highchair). Or the bathroom.

About 2 months after we moved here, we hired a cleaning service to come every two weeks. M would have started right on in at every week, but it took him some time to convince me. Yes, my husband advocated not only for cleaning help, but also any other help we need. He's really good that way.

Now, wonderful S, from Montenegro, with whom I speak broken German, comes for a full apartment cleaning once a week, and a few other mornings a week, just for an hour, to do the kitchen and then anything else if there is time. Do you know how wonderful it feels to walk into my bedroom and see the bed made with fresh sheets? I hope I'm not sounding like I'm bragging. If we couldn't afford the help, life would get so much more hectic and tiring. I'm telling you, for those of you who have maybe thought about getting the help, that it is one of the best things our money goes to. I would give up many other things I spend money on before this one. It gives breathing room to our family, and joy.

It means I can spend the extra time getting work done but also still keeping up with the bills and my yoga routine for my back. I can take care of myself enough to have energy for A. Which counts a lot.

Anyway, I thought I'd write about this today, because I think having cleaning help is still somehow taboo in American culture, and women feel like if they aren't completely overwhelmed, they have no right to hire someone to help. So, we have doggie daycare 3x a week, child daycare half time, I work half time, M works full time, we have cleaning help 3 days a week, I order groceries online to be delivered, and we have a babysitter we use for a night out or sending A for an overnight every few weeks, just to stay sane.

Oh, and S is the first person I've actually wanted to learn more German for. Not a local, but for the woman who takes such lovely care of our apartment, and even arranges the dog bed, I've wanted to be able to ask her more about her day, and to communicate better. And in fact, the new words I've learned in German were things like "leave", and others related to the household.

Spilled mik, #2 and #3

After the photo of the spilled milk came out so nice, I started taking a few others, of the things that might be called messes, that Baby A creates, but really are beautiful, too. Sure, they have to be cleaned up, but in a photo, to look at, later, when they no longer represent more work to be done, they're kind of nice.

I had one of my almost-out-the-door conversations with M this morning. Why is it that the sweet spot for interesting topics happens somewhere between the end of breakfast and the start of the commute? I guess it keeps things short, but there is an emotional space there that encourages those 7 minute chats somehow. Like the spilled milk photos, it is nice.

I was thinking about marriages and how you decide to interfere in someone else's or not. Ha ha ha. Just writing that pretty much argues for not. But what if there is some act of good will, that one person hasn't quite realized could make a huge difference to their spouse? That has to come first, that could shift the relationship ever so slightly, maybe to a place of more room and contentment. Yeah, ok, maybe that is just wishful thinking.

I like flowers, see. Not really bouquets of red roses, but I like fresh flowers, and I like them more than M realizes sometimes. (He knows this, by the way, including the not realizing part). And what if someone just reminded him to buy them a little more often. I mean, our marriage has survived, flowers or no, but would it have shifted things a bit, in a healthy way? At some tough time? Not an apology time (he knows you don't give me an "I'm sorry" bouquet - that it is just asking for trouble), but just some time when we were more rather than less out-of-sync with each other?

In other words, what is the role of all those guests who came to your wedding? To wait until you ask for marriage advice? To be there on the day and then leave you two to yourselves, only "butting in" when asked later? But by the time people ask for help it can be too late. We wait to do maintenance on our relationships sometimes. We don't even know we need a little push here or there, an anecdote about someone else's experience. Something we didn't even know we didn't know.

For instance, someone told M to take photos of me while I was pregnant and to tell me I was beautiful. And luckily, on top of that, M actually did believe it. He told me a lot. But he also did take photos. Sometimes just because he remembered the advice from another pregnant woman's husband. And it was nice. It was good for us.

Because we can't be everything to each other, or think of all of these things ourselves. Maybe that is the line, then, to suggest things to a person in a marriage, and leave them to decide whether to act on that or not. The idea might be a great one, but it remains in their hands whether or not they do it. And that is what counts in the end. It didn't matter that M didn't come up with the photo thing on his own, it matters that he took the idea and enacted it. Did the few seconds extra of effort to take those photos.

Huh. So do I say something to the spouse of a friend or not? I guess I'll have to see how I feel. Although spilled milk can make for a beautiful image, sometimes you need someone to buy you that new mop to make the clean up just that much easier.

Somedays you're the windshield...

Like this past weekend, with its gelato and fresh pastas with end of season truffles from a private chef. Latte machiattos from steaming machines.

And sometimes, you're the bug.




I'm spending more of today's time on labeling this blog finally.