Is A House Cleaner The Answer To A Happy Relationship? 6 years ago

Is A House Cleaner The Answer To A Happy Relationship?

I've said it before and I'll say it again: cleaning the house is a POX.

Despite my cleaning every single day, my house is never, ever clean. I'm not complaining about untidiness - kids are kids and I 100% expect there to be toys, socks, shoes and half of the couch cushions to be on the floor for most of the day.

I'm talking CLEAN. I will mop the kitchen floor at lunchtime and find that it's destroyed with doggie paw prints, a milk spill, a discarded yoghurt pot and a non-descript yellow sticky puddle by 3pm.

I can never get on top of the laundry, the bathroom needs its own cleaner on-call, the surface of the tv screen has it's own bacterial colony and every rug, piece of carpet and cushion surface imaginable has a vague whiff of stale milk from it. Yes, Fabreeze is my closest ally.

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I'm not at all keen for the house to be 'perfect' but since returning to work and having the kids minded by a childminder at home, the pressure to get the house into a state other than 'embarrassing' is on.

Now, my man and I do not see the things that need 'doing' around the house in the same way. He is completely in charge of feeding us and putting the bins out, and I am completely in charge of baking and ironing.

Therefore, now that we're both working, everything else should be shared right?

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Well, no, not really, and not if you want things done in a particular way and he thinks that buttering toast directly on the countertop as opposed to using a plate and leaving the knife, crumbs and all behind is totally acceptable. Do NOT get me started.

I've contemplated getting a cleaner but had two in the past for short spells after the kids were born to give me a hand, and neither really worked out.

The first one very obviously stopped wearing a bra when she would arrive at our door (true story) and the other just liked to hang around for hours and hours so that I would eventually have to offer to drive her home to get her to leave. Sooo not worth it.

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So what is the solution, oh working parents? Do I,

A) Continue to fight with Ass Monkey and risk his refusing to feed me ever again (disaster)

B) Find a new cleaner and risk hiring a topless psychopath

C) Just do it all my bloody self as usual and risk being all high and mighty forever?

Answers on a postcard please?! Let us know in the comments!