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.


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?



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.


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!