(Normally I find a misspelled word to be a bit of an abomination in the eyes of all who look upon it, but bourgeoisie is one of those words that I always have to look up.)
The first night Dick, Sally, and I spent in Egypt, the power went out while Sally and I were in the tub soaking away twenty-eight hours of traveling. Our bawwab (part doorman, part concierge, part decrepit old man), knew enough English (or simple human nature) to gather that I liked Mountain Dew rather a lot. (I had worried before we left New York if there would even be Mountain Dew in Cairo, but I knew they’d have Coke, so I wasn’t hysterical or anything).
Our bawwab (whose name I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember) took us on a convoluted walk from our nice, clean neighborhood to a cramped, dusty part of town only a mile away, and he treated me to a Mountain Dew in an old-fashioned glass bottle from the bodega next to the house where he lived.
Then he took us into his house and introduced us to his family. They lived in 200 (300?) square feet and he was proud of it. His wife was shy, and his kids were grown.
Later that week, he brought a woman to our apartment. Nadya was a widow with three teenage sons. She wanted to be our maid. Dick and I had read that most ex-pats employed maids, cooks, nannies and/or drivers, and that this was encouraged as a way of contributing to the local economy. It was criminally inexpensive to employ Nadya, and I was really excited to have a maid. We agreed that she would come in two hours a day, five days a week to clean our 1200 square foot, 3-bedroom apartment.
Nadya made our beds and washed the dishes. It was in Cairo that I learned to cook from scratch, and I mean scratch: cream of chicken soup not from a can, tortillas, cottage cheese from milk and vinegar. So there were many dishes each morning. Nadya swept and mopped the wood and tile floor. She brought cheap toys for Sally, toys that sang annoying Egyptian songs (and if you think Barney is bad, try a Ramadan dolly) that I couldn’t throw away for fear that she would see them in the trash that she took out.
I couldn’t handle it. When we came back to Cairo from our summer break in the States, Dick and I fired Nadya. We found the loss of privacy to be disturbing (perhaps our fault for having her come in almost every day), and Nadya didn’t always clean up to my standards. But mostly I just felt so uncomfortable with the whole setup. A few months later, when I was on bedrest with Susan for awhile, we hired our friend’s maid to help out. She was younger, sassier. Somehow it didn’t bother me to give her cleaning instructions.
Whenever I think about the logistics of our housekeeping issues in the four years we’ve been back, I think of Nadya. I wish we hadn’t fired her. I hope she found other work. I hope her sons, who I never met, and never bought presents for, are happy and grown.
I daydream sometimes about having a cleaning service, but I don’t know if I could ever do that to Nadya.
But I hate cleaning. I hate that any of my life has to be taken up with cleaning, and I hate that having a messy, dirty house makes me so grumpy. I hate that our lives run bumpier when I let things get as bad as they are right now.
Here are my answers to the questions I asked on Tuesday:
1. Our house is 1600 sq ft, with a 700 sq ft unfinished basement (2300 total). We’ve got 2 adults, 3 kids, and will never have any pets. Ever. Insha’Allah.
2. Some days I spend 30 minutes and some days 2 hours cleaning (including dishes but not laundry). And, occasionally, there is a 36-hour stretch when I feed the kids cereal and hotdogs on paper plates and spend negative-5 minutes on cleaning. Then there are other days it seems I spend 4-5 hours. I think a system of steady, spread-out effort might be something nice.
3. I don’t work for money now, but I think I spent less time cleaning when I did work and Dick was home with Sally when he was getting his Master’s degree. I know that we fought a lot then about Saturday cleaning. He would want to go sightsee in Manhattan, and I would insist that my mom said we had to do our Saturday chores. When I finally gave up quoting his mother-in-law to him and started enjoying Saturday morning outings in the city, life got much happier.
4. NO, Dick doesn’t help (enough). NO, the kids are punks. And I have NO IDEA how to get family to help. (I mean, I know I should do charts, and stickers and privilege-withholding and make it fun and be a team and praise sub-par efforts and not nag and see the good, but still. NO IDEA.)
5. The other day a church lady came to train me on Boy Scout stuff, and I’d completely forgotten. Had not showered, there was a poopy diaper (all taped up) on the living room floor, and it was fine. But usually I do make an extra effort. Last Sunday for our extended family dinner, I had to choose between cleaning up and driving 1 1/2 hours roundtrip to my sister’s house. We drove.)
6. Yes – housecleaning/house-messiness/housecleaning-inequity makes me mad and it makes me mad that it makes me mad.
7. Before there was blogging, I read five books a day if it meant blocking out the mess. So, yes and no.
—
I wish I’d known this topic would generate such interest (usually I am clueless about which posts will be “successful” comments-wise); I would’ve made a poll to more easily report the averages. I feel like most people reported cleaning 1-2 hours a day, usually not including laundry, and often not including dishes/meal prep. Either we are all super-efficient or we’re under-reporting our cleaning load. In a study by the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, married women with no children spent 17 hours a week, and women with more than three children spent 28 hours. If I assume roughly 3 hours extra per kid, then I should be cleaning about 26 hours a week.
I think my house would be really clean if I spent that much time cleaning, and I think we all probably spend more time than we think, AND I think I should keep a cleaning journal for a couple weeks to see how I could improve. I’ve been planning to keep a spending journal for approximately seven years now, and I’m pretty sure that if I only did these things, many mysteries of the universe would be unfolded.
But back to Nadya, and Beth‘s comment about her mother-in-law’s advice:
I just want to say that the best marital advice I got was from my mother-in-law who told me to always have somebody else clean the house. She said it would resolve so many marital disputes and indeed I think she is right. She even went so far as to cover the cost of one while David and I were both laid off from work – she is that passionate about the importance of one in a marriage.
Nadya, and not having to nag Dick to clean, and having money (even on our poor teacher’s salary) to go out to eat and cruise down the Nile, all made living in Cairo quite enjoyable. Having a third party responsible and accountable for much of the cleaning does make a marriage run smoother.
But I can’t shake the feeling that I should clean up after my own self. That somehow I should learn to do it with grace and elegance. And that teaching my daughters to value hard work and the rewards of cleanliness and order is one of the greatest gifts I could give them.
That I will grow into a better person as I discipline myself and serve my children and husband. (Gag. Did I just say that?)
I don’t know. Maybe someone should send me money to try the maid experiment again, this time with a nice, impersonal service. In the interests of science and the future of mankind, it’s really only fair that I keep an open mind.
Jane
Make sure you check out Kikibibi’s “Mrs. Brown” story in the comments!
Comment of the day from Laura (who is just cracking me up lately):
Everyone says that the act of keeping a food journal actually decreases calorie intake. What if I started a cleaning journal and it decreased the amount of time I cleaned… I predict disastrous results. So for now I will keep neither, because I obviously need all those calories for the cleaning I’m doing.
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Okay, I DO have one idea for you that I forgot about. You and I are so similar in this area. I HATE cleaning but I HATE messes. I like organizing, though. A lot. Cleaning ladies never do the job I would do. When I clean a bathroom I clean EVERYTHING.
My idea: Make some card stock strips that have jobs written on one side and money earned on the other side. Stick them in a basket/jar/whatever and let the kids pick one out randomly. OR, they could pick one based on the money they want to earn. The more money, the harder the job, of course. You could MAKE them do one or two jobs a day, or you could have it for when they want some cold hard cash.
Some things should be daily things but they forget and then you have to nag and THAT is exhausting too, especially listening to all the whiiiiiiining. Dailies: putting away clothes, washing toothpaste out of the sink after brushing teeth, clearing dishes from the table.
It’s so hard to make routines because they have to be done all the time for them to become ROUTINE but until they ARE routine, it’s hard to remember to do them. Blah.
Also, that conflict you feel about a cleaning lady is the same conflict I feel about a nanny because the nanny would cook and clean more than anything.
I honestly believe that raising kids these days is harder than when our parents raised us. There are greater expectations by kids and by schools, etc. I could go on but I won’t.
Because there are so many more choices afforded to women now, we experience more conflict about our lives. We want everything now. There’s so much I want to do with my life and the idea that I have to spend 20 years cleaning and cooking all day before I can really spend any time worth mentioning on those life goals is galling, horrifying, suicide-inducing. Here’s the thing: Having a clean house makes me feel calm, relaxed, patient and able to tackle other projects like my university course, or a painting, or a sewing project or reading a book. BUT, for me to feel like I can do those things I want to do, leisurely, I have to do all this cleaning first. And I have to spend literally, all day every day cleaning for it to be as clean as I want it. That’s no life. God didn’t give me my brain so I could clean all day. It’s the same repetitive crap over and over again. It never gets challenging. It contributes to the dulling of my brain. It’s a part of the lone and dreary world. And men don’t have to do this. Men get to have stimulating careers. They have the option, at least. NO ONE aspires to be a janitor.
Being a mom is glorious and wonderful and holy. BUT, in order to even have time and space to do cool things with the kids, all that other mind-numbing crap has to be done first. And it’s just not fair. It’s the short straw.
So, I go through long periods where I say to myself that I refuse to do more than necessary just to have to do it again right away. I’m going to read and build relationships and write and make little handbags for my girls. And then when they’re all in school and I’m not trying to hold back the flow of a rushing river with my hands (I have a three-year-old. Enough said.), then I’ll keep the house super clean and organized. When I’m not listening to fighting and whining throughout the day.
I see this as just a phase that’s both horrible and wonderful. I looooove my Lulu. She’s the sweetest, cutest thing in the world. But it’s balanced by permanent marker on my HONED GRANITE COUNTER TOP. So, one day it will be over and I’ll be both sad and relieved.
And then we’ll be onto Phase II: The Tidier Years.
I never resented the time and tasks allotted to me as a stay-at-home mother. I figured that we were in this together–he would earn the money while I took care of home and kiddies. Each would make equally valuable contributions toward the ultimate goal: a happy, successful family. Where this all has broken down for me has been in the off hours and Saturdays. When my husband was unemployed, I absolutely resented his attempts to make bread, do washings, etc.–I felt that he should be working at finding a job and leaving my tasks to me.
At the same time, one of my oft-repeated mantras over the years has been “Work is not a spectator sport!!!!!” I don’t understand how anyone can sit idly by (and I do mean IDLY!) while someone supposedly near and dear is physically laboring at difficult but necessary tasks (for their mutual benefit). I simply cannot do that (sit idly by), and I certainly hope that my children cannot do it either (indications are that most cannot). Unfortunately, I have never learned how to communicate that to my husband, and I see that as a serious failure on my part; I have obviously failed to encourage the best in him.
One other quick thought: I certainly was no paragon of virtue when it came to housecleaning, but I did plug away at it. I wish I had been able to commit more of the mundane to habit and tolerance level; that way stuff would get done without my having to think or worry about it. One thing that did work for me was to time some of my most avoided tasks. That way I learned that no matter how messy the kitchen was, for instance, I could do all the dishes (before I had a dishwasher) and sweep and mop in 2 hours or less. I could look at the clock and make the choice of what to spend my time on, knowing that the whole day (or evening) would not be gone.
Buck up, all of you SAHMs! In an eye-blink you’ll be empty nesters, and there is life on the other side of the mountain!
I hate cleaning the house. Hate it. Usually don’t do it, unless someone is coming over and then it’s a mad rush to wipe down counters and thrwo junk into drawers. This makes for somewhat of an issue in our marriage, as my husband grew up with a maid who STILL comes to his mother’s house twice a week, 50 years later, I am not even kidding. SO he expects the house to be clean, and wants to pay a housekeeper. We have in the past, but right now, not possible, on our current income. And yet, he expects that after 13 years of marriage I should be the one to change, and care about the dirty toilets, when I prefer to ignore it until he can’t stand it and he does it himself. I have no answer, except that when money ain’t so tight, yes, we’ll get a housekeeper. I’m spoiled and I know it, and I’m totally fine with it.
Everyone says that the act of keeping a food journal actually decreases calorie intake. What if I started a cleaning journal and it decreased the amount of time I cleaned… I predict disastrous results. So for now I will keep neither, because I obviously need all those calories for the cleaning I’m doing.
Is Merry Maids on Twitter?
Sounds like an excellent sponsorship moment!!
“Before there was blogging, I read five books a day if it meant blocking out the mess. So, yes and no.”
LOL, that was SO me!!! I have definitely been reading a lot less since I took up blogging. If I don’t want to clean (which I never do) I’ll find something else. And about everything you said…..really everything(except I obviously never had your experience in Cairo)…….DITTO!
All this housekeeper talk reminds me of a funny story from my childhood. I am the youngest of four girls, and mom stayed home all through our elementary school years. When I was about 3 or 4, Dad “allowed” Mom to hire a cleaning lady once a week. “Mrs. Brown” came on Thursdays to vacuum, dust, scrub toilets/sinks, sweep & mop. It was always a mad dash on Wednesday nights to pick up the house and put stuff away so Mrs. Brown could get to the grime underneath it all. Too young to be aware of much at the time, all I remember was going to Mommy’s Thursday bowling league with her.
What was REALLY happening was that there WAS NO MRS. BROWN! Once Mom conned everyone else into doing all the pick up on Wednesdays, it was a breeze for Mom to quickly get through the “scrubbing stuff” on Thursday mornings. Then with the $12 Dad gave her for Mrs. Brown, we’d go off to lunch and bowling with her lady friends. What a blast!
One thing I remember distinctly about Cairo was that my closest friends (those who weren’t quite ready for the whole maid thing, either) was that there was always frantic cleaning before the maid came. Which seems really ridiculous, but would be awesome in the scenario you paint, Kikibibi. One question — did your dad really think there was a Mrs. Brown? (I couldn’t quite tell.)
Our friends who had their maid come in just twice a week (for a bit longer) would always make cookies the night before and do any other baking/cooking.
You know, I have never even wondered if Dad was in on the “Mrs. Brown” ruse from the git-go or not. He definitely knew about it in later years, because when I got married to Mr. Brown (for real!), Dad joked that I would not need to hire “Mrs. Brown” since I was becoming a real Mrs. Brown (except I kept my own last name, but whatever).
I used to clean several hours a day. The biggest cure for my housework obsession was moving into a tiny, old, dingy house. We had always lived in fairly large, mostly new military housing. Then we decided to rent off post here in Georgia, and we rented sight unseen (just pictures).
The house was extremely small compared to what we were coming from, it was built in 1971 and has had few upgrades since then, and the few upgrades that have been done (like in the kitchen) were done so haphazardly that it looks awful.
I found that no matter how much time I spend cleaning and organizing in this house, it always looks dirty and like it’s inhabited by hoarders.
So, I clean bathrooms as needed, the kitchen and floors get cleaned daily (little kids), and everything else gets ignored until people are coming over.
It has saved my sanity (and my family’s).
The Mrs. Brown story cracks me up. That is hilarious.
One more thought on this…. One of the things that has helped me is designating “messy zones” – these are areas of the house that I have accepted will always be messy and that I’m okay with it. For instance, our home office. It is such a small space to be shared by two people and I just don’t think about it any longer. It most definitely looks like hoarders live in that room. The next room is our formal-living-turned-play room. I just chuck all the toys in there and close my eyes. This radically reduces the space I feel obligated to clean. I do make beds pretty much every day and I try to keep the kid’s rooms piked up every day as well. When I do “let it go” I get so depressed that it just isn’t worth it.
I have loved this topic cause it has really gotten me thinking!! (I love the Mrs. Brown story, my maiden name BTW) When I was young the girls did the inside chores and the boys the outside. To this day I greatly dislike the inside chores and would rather be outside doing yard work.
When the hubby and I married many years ago, we (I) decided that if he was at work all day and I at home; I would take care of all home stuff during the week and the weekend would be for playing. This has honestly been the best thing for our family. As the kids came along they would help me clean; vacuum, dust, rooms where the family hangs out neat and tidy (bedrooms weekly) and take care of the house as well as the yard. We have grown into this routine and it works great for our family. Some of our friends and neighbors feel it is unfair that my hubby doesn’t help more around the house; (which he does frequently) but many are envious of our family fun time on Saturday’s when they are cleaning and doing their household chores (especially their kids).
I feel like we have done a really good job of teaching our kids to work, as well as teaching them to play. We are very outdoorsy and love to snow ski, boat, hike, bike, and by freeing up the weekends can truly enjoy these activities with our kids. Now that they are a little older we are thanked all the time for teaching them to play. I’m sure when they have homes of their own we will be thanked for teaching them to clean.
My therapist told me I couldn’t afford NOT to find a housekeeper. i still haven’t. I think the young women in the area (read ward) are very spoiled as i offered quite a bit of money for peeps of there young age.
I feel super guilty about hiring anything out, and believe me I think windows, carpets, tile, lawns etc should all be someone else’s chore. Yet I still mow the lawn…and let the windows stay gross.
I miss Egypt. Just reading your pieces about it makes me ready to go back.
For my own sanity I have a cleaning lady come for two hours once a month to make sure all the basics get cleaned. I do have the mad dash of putting stuff away before she comes, but I love the cleanliness after she leaves. Totally worth it.
I agree about being an adult and picking up after yourself (OK, I’m not *that* much of a grot that I don’t pick up after myself!), but seriously, if I can pay someone to scrub my loo for me – of course I’m going to pay the money for that!
Now I’m getting the guilts of being too slovenly. Promise you won’t pop down and surprise me without giving me a month or so to clean? Might just have to get started soon, in case. Actually, it’s Friday today, so that means I should get a burst of cleaning energy tonight!
I have really enjoyed reading all the discussion on this topic. It just happened to coincide with the first week we’ve had a cleaning lady come to our house.
I’ve justified it because, even though I’m a SAHM, I’m 9 months pregnant and having a C-section in 2 weeks so I think I’ll need the extra help for a while. How long “a while” is remains to be seen. Maybe until this baby is in high school?? : )
We had the mad dash the night before she came (though I’m telling myself it’s because it was her first time and from now on we won’t have messes) and I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited in my life about a splurge.
What amazed me is that since she came our house has been SO clean and that my girls keep saying “we’d better clean up so Miss Trina doesn’t get mad at the mess.” Which is infuriating, but at the same time I must admit that my attitude has been similar. Since I know she’ll be back next week I want to make sure things aren’t out of control before she gets back here again. Though I’m not sure why I don’t have as much care and respect for my own efforts…