Why Do I Do This to Myself?

Every Monday, it's the same thing. It's just further proof that my obsessive compulsiveness is going to kill me, and probably soon if I keep this up. It is now Tuesday, and as I look around my house, I seriously question the sanity behind my weekly ritual...

What, you may ask, is this ritual to which I refer and why do I inflict it upon myself each and every week? It's just a little thing I like to call "Cleaning Monday," or more recently, "Break-My-Back-Cleaning-Just-So-My-House-Can-Get-Messed-Up-Again-Before-"House"-Even-Goes-Off-the-Air-on-Monday-Night Monday." Here is what my typical Monday schedule looks like (and yes, it's in my day planner):

• Laundry - I typically do 5 loads by the time I wash sheets and rugs.
• Change Sheets - I change our sheets and both cribs - whoever invented bumper pads was both brilliant and sadistic.
• Clean Bathrooms - I clean sinks, tubs, toilets, mirrors and baseboards - I cannot tolerate hairspray buildup.
• Sweep Bathrooms and Kitchen
• Mop Bathrooms and Kitchen
• Vacuum
• Clean Nurseries - This includes picking up the toys, dusting, switching out the changing pad covers and sterilizing the humidifiers.
• Clean Glass - This includes the television screens, storm door, French door, and any mirrors within reach of tiny, sticky hands.
• Clean Walls and Doors - I single-handedly keep the Magic Eraser company in business.
• Clean Out Refrigerator - This includes wiping down all shelves and drawers, as well as throwing out the moldy leftovers.
• Clean Kitchen
• Dust - This includes ceiling fans and baseboards.
• Sterilize Toys
• Clean Hair and Makeup Brushes

Even as I type this, I realize the craziness of it. It is incredibly hard to accomplish even half of this with two babies each and every Monday. Let's just say I start my day early, end it late and make good use of their nap times.

This insanity all started innocently enough. In those first few, simple weeks after Isabella was born, I found myself keenly aware of my new life as a stay-at-home mom. For the first time since I was 16, I found myself without a job outside the home, so I decided I would do everything in my power to run my home as efficiently as I ran my office before I left my job managing the editorship of an internationally-distributed medical journal; I was definitely a pro at meeting deadlines, making schedules and nit-picking details.

Since my sweet baby slept 18 hours a day, I would use all of this new-found time to run the most efficient, clean, and well-organized home I could imagine. I dreamed of being Donna Reed, Martha Stewart and Bree Van De Kamp all rolled into one coiffed, well-manicured, and well-made-up hot mama. You know the type, the ones who look like they just walked out of a Ralph Lauren ad and into the front door of their home in the Hamptons?

(Trifecta of Domestic Divas)

Needless to say, I never quite succeeded on this point (no matter how much I love high heels and pearls), but it was my fantasy, and the first step, I believed, was formulating and maintaining a weekly cleaning schedule. Don't ask me why.

I had tons of time and tons of energy in those early days. I determined I would come up with a schedule and stick to it, no matter what. And I did. It was difficult at times and I frequently struggled with issues like, "Is this all I'm good for these days?" and "My house looks really good, but so what? Is this why I went to grad school?" (Postpartum hormones and no one to talk to but an infant can cause your mind to come up with some pretty self-destructive thoughts). I decided the best thing to do would be to make Monday my "Cleaning Day" and then get out of the house as much as possible during the rest of the week and enjoy the world with the beautiful new blessing God had given me. Once I came to this conclusion, it became the most fulfilling time of my life. Phillip would come home from work and the house would be clean, dinner would be made, and I would be energized.

"Cleaning Monday" became a way of life. Once I worked it into my weekly schedule, it was hard to think of Monday as anything else. Isabella gradually began to sleep less, crawl more and get into everything she could reach, but I managed to keep up with my schedule...that is, until Isabella was 10-months-old. Ladies, forget what you've been told about birth control, breastfeeding and infertility; if it's meant for you to get pregnant, you're going to get pregnant. I am not one who deals well with change, especially major, life-altering curve balls thrown straight from God's pitching arm. Imagine my shock when that little stick turned purple after trying two years to get pregnant with Isabella, knowing all the while that I was religiously taking the pill and breastfeeding a 10-month-old. There was no doubt about it; Sophia was meant to be and life was about to change again.

Well, my sweet Sophia will be one-year-old on Saturday, and though I still have my weekly "Cleaning Day," I am no longer as efficient as I once was. I now do part of my cleaning on Sunday night and am sometimes still working when Phillip gets home from work. I certainly don't look like Donna Reed when he walks in the door, and I am frequently irritable and frustrated that I didn't get everything done.

So why do I do this to myself each and every Monday? Why not spread out the jobs over the course of the week? Well, to me, there is just something so incredibly satisfying about knowing that your entire house is clean all at once. It is wonderful knowing that for the rest of the week, I only need to make beds, clean the kitchen after dinner and pick up the general clutter, or at least that was the original plan. Now, the "general clutter" has amassed, I'm lucky to get the beds made by noon and I'm so tired after the girls' bath time, that sometimes the kitchen just has to wait. So much for living like the Trifecta of Domestic Divas, and it just kills my obsessive-compulsive soul to admit that.