It Sparkled

So I've been thinking about a clean house. Notice the operative word, "thinking." Anyhow, I figure you can have a clean house but only if you make a choice - a house that sparkles or kids that sparkle. In general, to have both, to really have both means I have to be mean - therefore, clean house equates mean mom. And frankly, I've decided I am just too nice of a person to keep up this whole mean mom show for a few piles of folded laundry and swept floors. Yeah, I've got to do it now and again, but in general I am o.k. with the kid version of clean. White glove maid has never been high on my list. French maid either though I wonder how high that rates on Randy's list? Anyhow, I just like the quick french maid clean up - pick up, ten minute tidy stuff. However, Makayla, my perfectly organized daughter wants the home to sparkle and shine. Today I ran to the store to grab one of Madalyn and my favorite staples, ice cream and milk (together so great, thanks Tiff for the "recipe"), and when I got home she was cleaning out the fridge. Wow! Today I didn't even try to force the whole "Saturday is a special day, its the day we get ready for Sunday" clean routine. At that moment, it sparkled, not my fridge (it was close to getting there) but Makayla. Because she was helping me have it all. In domestic talk that means, happy kids and a clean house without the cajoling turned threatening speech sputters. The joy wasn't sucked out of motherhood for a few wiped down surfaces and scrubbed toilets. I'll probably have to get mean for a bit by Tuesday, toilets have to be scrubbed, but today I didn't. Thanks Makayla.