I didn't always feel this way, though. My childhood exposed me to several different cleaning styles. My mom didn't care about cleaning too much. My stepmother was pretty much obsessed with it. And then I spent years in a dorm where everybody had chores but it wasn't the end of the world if things got a little messy now and then. When I ventured out on my own, keeping a tidy abode was the last thing on my mind.
Until I had my son. Then I became worried about every little thing that was on the floor. I was scared to death he was going to choke on some tiny thing I'd neglected to vacuum. And, of course, being so close to the floor, he proved time and time again just how capable he was of finding tiny specks of leaves, paper and whatever else I'd missed.
Time was certainly a factor as well. Once he hit the 12-month mark, he hit the ground running - literally - and never seemed to stop. I followed, but most of the time I was too tired to bring the broom and dustpan along with me. I decided to find a compromise that factored in safety, cleanliness and sanity. Other mothers I know have done the same thing to varying degrees and the funny thing is, all of our kids seem to be doing just fine. Even the mom who sweeps and mops her kitchen floor every day. Even the mom who really does have a kitchen counter underneath there, somewhere. Even me.
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