The Mini Van Soap Box

I dated a guy for a short period of time in my 20's that would make fun of the way I would clean. Well, actually, not the way I would clean - but where I would clean. While cleaning the kitchen I would actually MOVE the appliances and wipe underneath them. This apparently was very funny to him - and also made me a bit OCD, in his opinion. From there on out was an ongoing joke about the very smart dirt that lived in my apartment - and the battle I waged against said dirt.

I let the joke go on...simply because he was convinced he was funny. But also, because I knew I was right. There WAS dirt underneath the coffee maker. Why would I just leave it there and clean everywhere else?

These days the war is a bit more of an argument. I don't always have the time or the energy to rage war every damn day.

Because here's the thing. The dirt IS very smart. I can scoop, vacuum, sweep, wipe or Lysol the hell out it, but miraculously, it keeps showing up. The dirt is faster and smarter than I.

Now it's coming after my daughter.

Every morning is the same in my house. She gets dressed in clean clothes, brushes her teeth and hair, and we even go so far as to get the sleep out of her eyes! This isn't something I'm patting myself on the back for - don't get me wrong. I just see no reason why she should look like a shlump. I see kids every morning who clearly just roll out of bed and put on the same clothes that they had on the day before. It's either that or their parents let them ride to school rolling around in the trunk of a car.

This morning though, I had that kid. I don't know when or where it happened - but somewhere between brushing her teeth and getting into the car - a huge black smear showed up on her shirt. I may like my kid to be clean - but I also have a timetable I have to keep.

So, today I have the dirty kid at school.

I suppose I could just dress her in black all the time - but then I would have a little goth baby.