Cleaning Tips? Free Maid Service? Anything? Bueller? Bueller?

If you have any cleaning/organizing tips, I'd love to hear them.  Honestly, I consider myself to be a pretty organized person.  As a matter of fact, my almost-two year old actually helps me put his toys away, will put his books back on the shelf, will actually help the teachers at daycare put toys away, so I'm fairly certain it's in my DNA and hence my child inherited my cleanliness.  I think he watched me sweep so many times when he was an infant, to this day if the broom is out, he will push it around the living room.  And we have three dogs.  We sweep a lot.

My husband comes home from work and will empty his pockets on any shelf in the living room.  I will go behind him and put his belongings in the same corner of the same shelf every single time.  I will hang his keys on the key chain hanger thingy.  I've compromised with him on this.  Originally, I was of the mind set that those belongings needed to be in the bedroom on the dresser, but I got tired of fighting that, so I just put them in a corner where I don't have to look at them all of the time.  

I have anxiety, and it's tied directly to my environment.  If I'm in a messy place, I can literally feel my anxiety climb, can literally not be able to sit and relax until it's organized, or cleaned.  I grew up in a massively cluttered house.  We would get a knick-knack every vacation we took, sometimes several knick-knacks.  (We went on a lot of vacations.)  Needless to say, these knick-knacks just became huge dust collectors and shelf space taker-uppers.  So, I lived in that place for 18 years.  Once I got my own place, I decided, sure, I'd have souveneirs, but I'm going to have a neat, crisp environment. 

Enter: man.  Enter: child.  A bomb has exploded.

Don't get me wrong.  I love my husband, and I wouldn't change him for anything.  My child is the light of my life.  But, holy hell balls.  They have so much stuff!! Thankfully, as I've previously stated, child of mine will clean and help me organize.  Husband, will try.

I know I was just blubbering on and on about wanting another baby, and yes, this is true.  Am I willing to sacrifice some of my anxiety-ridden cleaning freak-ness?  Most definitely.  I do think I would be able to deal with this weird quirk of mine.  Could I do it in my current abode?  Hell fucking no.  

This place is not big enough for 4 humans and 3 canines.  Absolutely not.  My husband is working tirelessly to put us in a better position to be able to buy a house this time next year.  Mark my words: April/May 2017, this family will be packing their oodles and oodles of belongings up, and we will be moving into a house, hopefully built to our specifications and to our needs.  

Bay-bees

Babies.  There is so much that comes along with those little bundles of joy.  You never knew your heart could be so full of love for another human being.  You never thought you'd feel that tremendous pull on your heart until you see the little being that used to be inside you.  Being so excited, but so damn scared.
                                       

A part of you will miss feeling the baby move around inside you.  Those little bubbles that were the first indications that something was alive inside.  The weird cravings or the things that you eat that you will never tell another living soul (we all have those dirty little secrets ... mine may or may not have been an entire container of cinnamon rolls).

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The excuse for buying a body pillow if you don't already have one.  Swaying.  Whether you are aware of the swaying or not, it's very soothing.

Then, there are the things about pregnancy you won't miss.    

The constant need to pee being the most obvious.  I know with my pregnancy, Baby L decided my sciatic nerve was a great cushion and I was in the worst amount of pain during my last trimester.  I couldn't walk without limping, I couldn't really move without the feel of a hot knife in my lower back.

                                          

I hated people touching my stomach.  Personal space is not a myth people!

                                          

I couldn't flip over in bed without waking up, partially because of the sciatica, but mostly because it'd take momentum to get me to flip over.  The swelling.  Oh, sweet baby Jesus, the swelling.  Not being able to reach my feet and shoe laces.  Those two do not mesh well.  Being in that "in-between" stage, where people would look at you and silently wonder if you were pregnant, or just fat.  I could go on.  For awhile.

Infant hood.  Those long nights where you are sleep deprived and are torn between main-lining caffeine or stabbing your husband while he sleeps and you nurse the baby.  Where it may or may not be frowned upon to duct tape the pacifier to your baby's face.

To this day, River Monsters reminds me of when Baby L decided it was a great night to not sleep without the pacifier, but didn't like the way it felt in his mouth.  So, that night, I laid on the couch with baby in his floor bouncer with my hand on his mouth keeping the pacifier in it watching about 5 hours of River Monsters at 2 in the morning.  That was a long night.)  Those mornings where your husband will wake refreshed and ready for the day ahead while you are still rocking in the chair trying to get a squirming baby comfortable enough to fall asleep.  I have lost count of the times that I have rocked MYSELF to sleep and not my child.  Learning the ancient art of Swaddling and wrapping and re-wrapping again to get the blanket just right.  Nursing.  Oh, nursing, how I do not miss thee.  I'll spare you the horror stories.

Toddler hood.  When you're baby develops his personality and learns how to un-childproof your entire life quicker than it took you to read the book about how to child proof your life.  This is good times.  When Baby L learned how to crawl, we were so excited. When he progressed to walking, we were so proud.  With toddler hood, comes scissor-kicking our legs during diaper changes.

                                            

With toddler hood, comes handing over cell phones to entertain while riding in the car.  Long lost are the days where baby will sleep at the drop of a hat.  Long lost are the times where you could make a quick trip to the grocery store with naught but your key and your wallet.  Now, it's a whole ordeal.  "Do you have extra diapers?  What about a bottle in case the baby gets hungry?  Do you have a blanket, it might get cold?  What about the pacifier?  Oh, and an extra pacifier in case the first one gets dirty?  And the pacifier cleansing wipes?  A change of clothes?"  Oh, and holy alien babies, do NOT forget the child!  (No, I'm not speaking from experience.)

After all of this, I look at my toddler and decide, I want another one.  I miss the feather light baby weight.  The smell of baby breath.  The cuddles.  Oh, the snuggles and cuddles.  The first coo.  The first time they smile.  All of the firsts.  And the seconds.

Are all of the blood, sweat, tears, and trials worth it?  Abso-fucking-lutely.  I'm doing it again.  For faces like this: