And this is why I don't clean...

So, those of you who have been reading me for a while know that every time I try to get a handle on the chaos that abound as dust bunnies the size of German Shepherds, something happens! Just take this story, for example. Still makes me shudder. So, today I took the big kids to camp at 9, ran to the store and home and then back out to camp as parents and younger siblings were invited to come see JUNGLE JOHN. We watched some snakes and turtles, alligators and frogs and then my little guy got bored. Luckily, the playground that borders camp was having maintenance done on it so it was an easy struggle into the car. I was worried about interrupting "John" as my toddler let out squeals that only a howler monkey mom could love as I wrestled him into his carseat (only after playing the "you can't catch me" game around the inside of my minivan). I walked into the house and was startled as a gentle breeze sent the dog hair across the kitchen floor like a "flock of bunnies." I got the baby set up to play and brought out the big guns, the vacuum and the electric scrubber mop. It was time to get the remnants of each meal of the last week off the floor. With each jaunt to her bowl, the dog was packing her black hair down into the sticky juice drips and gummy drool across my kitchen floor! Gross. It was time to clean. I vacuumed and scrubbed and withstood the pleading to "look" and "go outside" and I had time to spare before heading back to grab the kids from camp at 1. I looked around at my floor that could now pass the industrial food packaging sterilization test. I glanced up at the clock. Barring some major malfunction, I have plenty of time give the mudroom the same treatment. The dog's crate and her bowls are in the mudroom so it's where she runs, gulps down quarts of water and then drools small rivers to the next place she plans to wreak havoc. This floor was in even worse shape but given the baby's crazy rants and begging to go outside that I was trying to ignore contentment I decided I could whip this floor clean before having to go get the kids. In order to wash the floor completely, I need to take the baby gate down which usually can cause an aneurysm because my little one can reach and turn all the door knobs in the house. I pointed out how cool his cars and trucks were so I could get started, glanced back at the clock and even though it would be cutting it close, I was determined to get this floor clean! I threw rugs out into the driveway, galumphed large stacks of bedding waiting to be washed up onto the dryer, picked up the mat under the dogs bowl with tongs and threw it and her bowls out into the side yard. Of course, I gagged a little as all these things had been covering up the true putrid nature of my mudroom floor. I vacuumed. A little better. But it would shine once I could get up the kibble drool and mud and grass stains off the white tile. I started scrubbing and WOW, that floor really is white! I am imagining the clock, knowing I have about 5 minutes TOPS before I need to head to get the kids. With that thought, I yank the crate that could hold a small cow across the floor to get the drool-matted hair from underneath and that's when it happened... that major malfunction I was referring to a few minutes earlier. The gallon jug of Pine-Sol that had been teetering on the edge of the dog crate came crashing down, hit the floor and exploded into tiny shards of shatter-proof plastic and tidal waves of lemony yellow cleaner.

I literally looked down at my feet as a large wave lapped up over them and hit the bottom of my capris. The tsunami was headed right toward the floor I had just finished and the baby sitting on the floor whining about going outside. I literally stopped for a second to think where I put the camera so I could tell this story and have footage to back it up so people wouldn't think I was exaggerating! It was in the car. Not headed out there now. Thank the Lord, I had just folded the beach towels and put them on the washer so they would be a quick grab on our way out the door to the pool. Of course, I had to get there from where I was standing. I am assuming none of you ever have waded through Pine-Sol on a linoleum floor but it is similar to lubing your feet with Olive Oil and walking down an incline of Windexed mirrors. As I skated, and somewhat moonwalked, to the washer there was a giggle. The Pine-Sol storm had lapped underneath the babygate and onto the feet of my almost 3-year old. Of course, he was giggling at both ME trying to walk across the floor and HIM mimicking me like the little 3rd Stooge. It took 5 beach towels to get the mess cleaned up to the point that I could leave the house. But not before he found a pack of wipes and squeezed the bejeebies out of them leaving another sticky trail across the floor that was clean AND dry. As I grabbed him and thought, "Oh well, wipe juice will dry." I caught a whiff. I was down to 35 seconds before needing to leave for camp and HE WAS POOPY! How do you poop in that chaos?

I certainly can't - refer to this story for proof of that! We skated to the stairs, changed a diaper and ran to the car. As I drove, a funny feeling in my feet became apparent. I tend to have a bit of an anxiety issue so my mind raced, hadn't I just read somewhere about Pine-Sol poisoning? How long would it take for fatal amounts of the yellow slime to reach my blood stream? I got to camp, alive, peeled my STICKY hands from the steering wheel and gathered up the babes! Got home, finished mopping the mess and rallied up some chicken nuggets and salad for lunch. THIS IS WHY CLEANING IS BAD FOR YOU! I AM SOOOOOOO OVER THIS!