Intention vs Reality

I told myself once I had a baby I'd be motivated to keep the house cleaner. I'd make a schedule, I'd set it up like I'm in Little House on the Prairie - you know, washing Monday, baking Tuesday, or whatever. Here I am with a baby on the verge of crawling and my house is probably the dirtiest it's ever been. Not messy - dirty. And that's kind of normal for this time of year, really. It's hot as hell and extremely dry. Which means I have the windows open because of the heat, but the dryness means clouds of dust and dirt blow in all day long. I don't know how technically "clean" I could realistically keep things even if I tried. Which I don't.

A friend *might* have an inexpensive cleaner for me who I will call next week. I have broached the topic of hiring a cleaner many times, but always stopped short of committing to it because A) I couldn't find anyone good/in my area/affordable, and B) my attempts at hiring a big company to clean have been dismal failures. And in the end I always felt guilty, using the rationale "I'm home all day, I have no excuse to not keep this place spotless". But then months go by and I'm stressed out by my greasy stove top, dirty floors, dusty counter tops. And life goes by while I feel crappy about my dirty house, and every time I want to have people over I have to spend hours scouring the whole place.

So I am going to take one last stab at finding a good, cheap cleaner. I think having a house that had a baseline of tidiness would make me so happy - and would be so much better for The Bumpus. It's just one of those things in my life that's a constant source of agitation and I'm over it.

The other source of constant agitation that I'm over is my dog. Sure, I could spend hundreds more on the trainer, treats, a fenced off area, spend all day working with her, to *maybe* get some results. Or maybe I could do all that and still have her bark all day and piss and shit all over every soft surface in the place. I knew it was bad when a couple of days ago I noticed a return of the "I don't want to go home" syndrome. I found myself driving around looking for excuses to not have to go home, where my miserable barky dog is, that I feel profoundly guilty about. I find when I am at home I spend more and more time holed up in the bedroom where I can't hear her plaintive barking in the office. I'm there now. I could be enjoying a nice evening in front of my living room TV, back and forth to the kitchen. But no, I'm locked off in the bedroom because if I go in the kitchen the dog can see me and wants to get out and barks. And then I feel guilty. Something's horribly wrong with this picture.

So I am going to take the rescue up on their offer to take her back for me. I'll take her to the vet first and get her all shot up and checked out as they asked, and then hopefully return her to the rescue who will place her with someone like I was four years ago - childless, and ready to make a dog the center of their life.

So these are two realities I have been avoiding that I have to face. I cannot help this dog, and I need help keeping this house clean enough for a crawling baby. Sigh. God forgive me.