Month 12: Home Sweet Hovel

Someone threw up in my shoe. I suspect it was the baby, rather than the dog. Who knows how long it had been there. There was a time when I would have noticed something like that, oh, I don’t know, immediately? Not that someone puking in my shoes is a frequent occurrence. Except for maybe a couple times in college. Now that I have a baby, though, shoe puke is the least of my worries.

Miles can wreak much more havoc than some spit up, let me tell you. Just the other day, he dumped two full glasses—one water, one iced tea—onto the couch. Who was stupid enough to leave beverages within reach of an almost-one-year-old, you might ask? That’d be me. Twice. The kid’s quick, OK? In his defense, he did tear up some napkins next to “help” mop up the mess.

I’ve almost become immune to the sorry state of my house these days. And that’s pretty sad. I was never a neat freak. I could stand clutter, but dirty dishes and sticky counters? Gross. Filth is where I drew the line. Well, my definition of filth is more flexible now. Certainly, any stray bodily fluids should be attended to as soon as they’re detected. But dirty dishes in the sink? What’s the big deal? Miles now attempts to climb into the dishwasher every time I open it, so I try to limit his opportunities.

This weekend, though, I had no choice but to get my house in order. We had a big family party, and our houseguests might not be accustomed to the crunch of Cheerios underfoot. Nor may they anticipate unraveled rolls of toilet paper and assorted kitchen utensils strewn about the floor. Plus they would surely expect me to feed them something besides cubed sweet potatoes and yogurt, right? Well, just try and mix up a double batch of key lime bars and a pasta salad with a tiny terror underfoot, people. It’s not easy.

Even so, the house got cleaned up (enough) and we had enough food to feed a football team. Miles was in his glory being fawned over by his five female cousins (the sixth is too young to fawn yet). He got his first taste of cake, and sported his first (and possibly last) seersucker suit. Now the crowd’s gone, C.’s away on business, and the house has resumed its usual state. No spit-up in my shoes, though. I checked first this time.

TIP O’ THE WEEK: Baby wipes are a decent stain remover in a pinch. However, they do nothing for potting soil in your carpet. Just something I know.