Just Call Me The Maid

I really need to clean my house. My little darlings haven't quite figured out the joy of picking up after themselves and it's a giant struggle to try to get them to do anything. Joy. Imagine if you will, Mount Vesuvius has just blown it's top in my house. Only rather that it being filled with liquid, hot magma (in your best Dr. Evil voice) it was filled with toys and trinkets and has spewed them to the far corners of the house... that's what it looks like. My motivation level is low because I know as soon as I finish one room, that's their cue to come back in and tear it all out again. Sigh. But, it's raining and there is no where to go. So I guess that means I have no excuses not to... even though I really don't want to. But I guess I will. Ugh. Let there be no mistaking, if I should ever acquire mass quantities of money, a housekeeper is totally on my list.

*UPDATE!* The girls rooms are organized, dusted, vacuumed, sheets are washed and beds are made and amazingly the girls did 85% of the work with only about five minutes of whining at the very beginning! Granted, I had to walk them through it and Mr. Gunny Box (box that eats toys, clothes, and trinkets left out) had to make his rounds, but dang it, they worked and they even thought Mr. Gunny Box was funny! He ate up some of their favorites they'd failed to pick up and they started to get upset. So Gunny burped up a few things and then took a few more minutes to digest before coming back to look for dessert. That gave them time to put away the things they'd missed and the peace was restored and everyone was happy. Can I get a hip, hip, HOORAY!