I am totally going to give up any attempt at keeping my kitchen floor clean. I can spend 45 minutes sweeping and steam mopping the entire kitchen floor, hallway and entryway only to find that exactly 2 minutes after putting the mop away the floor is dirty again. So every night after dinner I sweep the floor and then I usually turn Bob loose to do his cleaning thing. Bob, named by my big five year old, is our robotic floor cleaner. He works great to keep an already clean floor clean, and at least sanitized, which is important in my home seeing as my boys spend more time laying about the kitchen floor than practically anywhere else in the house. But Bob is blind. If there are spots of any kind on the floor he just rolls on over them, totally oblivious. I would say that this proves that my floor cleaning robot is a male but I got called out by my sweet husband on a previous post for not pointing out that, while he did, in fact, forget to feed the boys dinner one day last week, he was the one who made them the peanut butter sandwiches I insisted they eat before we put them into bed that night. I don't want to be called out again.
Cleaning my kitchen is a later in the week task, so the floor won't be steam mopped until Thursday or Friday. So keeping it as clean as possible every day is kind of important to me. But I give up. And here's why.
Last night my sweet husband and I were still sitting at the dinner table after the boys had been excused. The tiny toddler tends to leave the table and then wander back a few times, taking bites here and there. Yesterday he had actually eaten pretty well, except for the large amount of meat he chewed and then spit out. This happens so often that I just put a paper towel over his plate and kept talking to my husband. My tiny boy then wandered over to his brother's chair and climbed up. This chair doesn't have a booster seat so he was able to stand up, which he did. He then pointed his tiny bum bum at me, shook it, and yelled "poop!". "Poop" is his new favorite word. I asked him if he needed to go potty. He said "no". We haven't really started potty training him yet but when he walks right up to me, shows me his bum and tells me he is pooping I feel a little guilty, so I asked him.
He continued to mutter words like "poop" and "ewww", so I should have known. Then he dropped his brother's cup of red kool aid on the floor, splattering a few drops. I handed him a paper towel and asked him to get down and wipe up the floor. He climbed down, bent over, and all hell broke loose. Turns out he had, in fact, pooped. And now it was all over my kitchen floor. Panicked moves around the kitchen previously only seen by clowns riding tiny cars ensued. I yelled to my big five year old to run upstairs and get me a diaper.
Me: "Matthew, run upstairs and get me a diaper for your brother- hurry!"
MZW: "Ewww! I don't want to touch a dirty diaper!"
Me: "Why would I ask you to bring down a dirty diaper? Get me a clean diaper, NOW!"
The big five year old then runs up the stairs while I chase the tiny toddler around the kitchen, finally tackling him and holding him down on the ground so he will stop splattering, well, you know. The big five year old returns, throws a handful of wipes at me, and heads back to the living room.
Me: "Hey! These are WIPES. I asked for a DIAPER!"
MZW: "I thought you said wipes." (he makes no move to go back and get me the diaper.)
ME: "This is what I have been talking to you about, you have got to really listen when people talk to you!" (I then realize that maybe now is not the time to drive this point home with my five year old.)
I continue to hold down the tiny toddler while my big five year old runs back upstairs and tries it again. This time he is successful. I clean up the tiny toddler and put his clothes in a plastic bag to take down to the washing machine. Then I clean up the floor, putting the disgusting diaper and wipes into another plastic bag. I then send my tiny toddler up the stairs to his waiting father, to have a bath. And then I hear: "Why is he wearing a clean diaper?" (implication being that he was just going to take it right off, so why put it on in the first place?) Dear sweet husband. I know you didn't see the mess all over the kitchen floor but trust me, if I had sent him up those stairs without changing that diaper we would have had to replace the carpeting. Seriously. Why do you think I changed it? IT WAS GROSS.
Now we are two for two. Both boys have, at one time or another, pooped on the kitchen floor. So the real question is - who wants to come over for dinner?
Please tell me this has happened to you.