My name is Lela and I have a housekeeper. Don’t judge me. I’ve done enough of that myself. I’ve also tried to handle the housework myself—even enlisted the kids in a weekly ritual to rid our home of the odor of dog and used Kleenex. The routine consisted of making a list of chores, cranking up the Jonas Brothers, and setting a timer for an hour. It was ugly, but at the end the house was clean—not white glove clean, but good enough. I followed up throughout the week nagging the children to pick up their things until I ran out of saliva. This system worked for a while, but the kids complained and I got tired of yelling. We slacked off until I was once again afraid I’d pick up a Staph infection from my own bathroom. I knew I needed help.

Step 1: Admit that you are powerless over your poor housekeeping.

It’s like a disease, this inability to scrub grout and polish porcelain. So why do I feel so guilty about outsourcing? I’m only trying to set a good example. None of us is Superwoman. The grime coating my best wedding gift vase was so thick I’d forgotten its original color; dust bunnies had morphed into a pack of vicious jackrabbits under my sofas; and there were leftovers in the fridge from the Bush Administration. Clearly, I was not in control.

Step 2: Realize that the solution lies in a power greater than yourself (ie. a housekeeper).

I called the woman who used to clean our house back when I had one big paycheck instead of the handful of small ones I now receive. She was available. And she’s great—with baseboards, stainless, and my fingerprinty glass-topped desk. I justified the luxury by telling myself that now the kids and I will have time to work on the deep detail cleaning and organizing. We’ll thwart the landfill-o-crap that threatens to overtake their bedrooms. Mmm-hmmm. That’s exactly what we’ll do with the time. We won’t sit around eating Sour Patch Kids and Raisinettes and watching American Idol. No way.

Step 3: Commence with the cleaning.

Naturally, I had to clean up the house before the housekeeper’s first visit. I won’t be judged for hair-clogged drains and fuzzy ceiling fans. More important, I don’t want her thinking we’re trouble like those slobs across the street. I can’t afford a rate hike (or the stress of negotiations). Her first day back I held back a giggle as she worked and let out a hearty “YES” when I saw the tidy of rags next to the washer after she’d gone. I floated through the house on a lavender and Pledge scented cloud. Goodbye tiny hairs and pet dander. Hello shiny wood floor.

Judge me if you must, but not until you have walked a mile through the devastation that was my home before I got help—and the housekeeper.

Lela Davidson’s award winning essays appear in magazines throughout the country. She is the parenting columnist on HubPages.com and a regular contributor to ParentingSquad.com. As long as she gets paid to write, she’s keeping the housekeeper. Find out more on her wildly entertaining blog, www.afterthebubbly.com.

I feel guilty. But not because my house is a hot mess. I feel guilty for feeling like I should be able to do it all and not getting help. Because really – when there’s a quarter inch coat of dust that actually changes the color of that lovely glass vase you got for your wedding – when the dust bunnies have turned into a pack of vicious jack rabbits – when there’s stuff in the fridge that you can’t identify – when it’s that bad – you need help.

So a couple of weeks ago I finally broke down and called the woman who used to clean our house. And wouldn’t you know that poor dear was out of work? Providing a regular gig was the least I could do. Besides, now the kids and I can work on the deep detail cleaning more often so as to thwart the landfill-o-crap that threatens to overtake their bedrooms.

As I waltzed through the house on a lavender and Pledge scented cloud of happiness, I felt better. Not just because all the tiny hairs had been whisked away, but because I had a hand in the financial recovery of our nation.

Stimulate the economy: hire a housekeeper.

Can’t enough of my wit? See these gems:

Treat Your Husband This Valentine’s Day: Morph Into a 1950s Housewife
Cleaning the Children’s Suite – It’s No Earth Day Up There

Should you desire to clean your own house, check out tips and tricks over on Parent Bloggers Network.

I don’t know why my children – the same children who throw a fit if they see me toss anything remotely recyclable into the trash, the same children who recently pressed my husband to call for his company to use only recycled plastics, the same children who won’t let me leave the water running for more than 6 seconds at a shot – create so much trash.

And I know, yeah, yeah it’s my fault. But really it’s not because I don’t buy them all the crap that ends up clogging their rooms so that one whole half of my house looks like the opening scene of Wall-E. Between the school treasure boxes, the award certificates they get for merely showing up and breathing at practically anything, competing grandparents, and their friends’ ever increasingly generous birthday goodie bags – we’ve got a load of mess up there! Happy Earth Day!

Among the typical empty candy wrappers, spit laden gobstoppers, wadded up tissue, inkless pens, and toys that don’t work, I found unidentified underwear, fishnet stockings for the Whore Barbie, and a pee-scented sleeping bag wadded into a closet.

Spring cleaning: magical.

That said, the one change I’ve been trying to make (not too successfully I don’t mind adding) is in the area of cleaning products. And not even so much to be green, I just think it’s sort of ridiculous that we have to buy all this special stuff to clean our homes. Is the dirt today that different than the dirt a hundred years ago when all they had was a jug of vinegar, some baking soda, and a whole lotta elbow grease?

Ranting aside, I have as yet been unable to make all my own cleaning products. (I told you I was over it!) So the next best thing is natural store bought stuff. I swear by Mrs. Meyers.

This week Parent Bloggers is helping SC Johnson get the word out about Nature’s Source cleaners, which is another off-the-shelf cleaner with natural ingredients. No matter what you choose, I think it’s a wonderful thing that we’re getting better ingredients in everything we buy.

Because let’s face it, we’re going to buy most of it. Unless you’re homesteading out on a farm somewhere, life is just too busy to be making your own furniture wax and baking cookies from scratch. Honestly!

Now gardening…. that’s something I’d like to try.

Here’s what I learned:

• My guest room really was ‘sort of orgnized’ in a messy way.
• Furniture is heavy, so
• Preparing for carpet cleaning counts as a workout.
• My son likes to collect paper.
• We still have Polly Pockets shoes hiding in the corners.
• Two vacuums is not enough.
• My kids view Erector Set nuts as vacuumming challenges.
  (Quote: If it’s not for picking stuff up, then what’s it for!)
• The under-bed storage area is full – everywhere.
• The Salvation Army is my friend.

I swear I saw my dog snicker when I made the appointment.
It’s raining lady, I imagine him thinking, and these paws were made for digging.
Oh well, maybe next week we’ll do the windows.

I know a lot of people have a place for single socks, but I didn’t realize some people actually abandon the whole matching process altogether, opting instead for a big ole basket-o-socks. I’m not sure my laundry room is large enough for that. Is it that hard to match socks? Maybe other families have more socks than we do.

What’s your sock issue?