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After One Week of Constant Housework… (not quite a 50s housewife)

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I’m wiped out. I’ve been working every day to make this house clean. I’ve never been a very good housekeeper, as I’ve mentioned before, but my goal is to be one. My goal is to have the house mostly ready every day, and to only have to do maintenance – not an overhaul – every week. But you have to start somewhere, and this week was that somewhere. I know my house is never going to be perfect. I’m fine with that. Heaven knows I want my house to look lived in. But there’s a difference between lived in and messy.


Lived in

Lived in



Lived in

Lived in



So, this week I’ve swept, vacuumed, mopped, dusted, organized, washed, scrubbed, polished, thrown-out, re-organized, cleared-out, emptied, and prettied. Gracie and I each made 2 batches of homemade ice cream and a batch of cookies each. I threw out expired medicine, relabeled my baking ingredients, and the girls pared down their many, many Barbies.

It took me a week to get my house looking good, and it would take a 1950s housewife one day. This is making me feel pretty sad.

Although, realistically, she probably never let it get out of control, so she didn’t have the ridiculousness that I had.

That being said, I’m feeling really good. My view right now is this:


I’ve also managed to make (mostly) timely dinners all week. We’ve eaten at the table as a family all week – homecooked meals. (Well, except for Monday when I went out with the girls and left the husband to make pizza with the kids.) Being in a cleaner, less cluttered house is good for my psyche. It’s good for all of our psyches, honestly.

Now that my home is almost how I want it, my plan is to try that 50s housewife gig for a week and see how it goes. The only question is… do I go all the way and wear dresses and skirts when he comes home from work? Do I go so far as to have a drink waiting for him and the kids freshly scrubbed? (I promise I’ll post photos either way. 🙂 )

What say you, readers? Weigh in!!



ps – I had my Don Draper moment the other night at dinner. The husband wanted to go out to eat on Friday (a rarity – we usually order pizza and eat it in front of a movie). He ordered me an Old Fashioned so I could see what it was like. It wasn’t the greatest, but it certainly wasn’t the worst.






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