Do-Mestik Injuneering

Ahhh...your typical Saturday at the Smiff House. The kids are fighting over the computer. Princess Daughter has discovered My Space.com and that is the center of the universe, as far as she is concerned. #1 Son gets online and plays Neopets for hours on end while listening to Rick and Bubba. #2 Son occasionally wants to play a game or something, but as a rule he's not involved in the fracas surrounding the computer. Arguments and insults abound between the older Smiff kids and it drives me nuts. All the while, Dad is away on the road taking bows and signing autographs.

I'm also in a never ending battle for the laundry and housework. I'm not a housekeeper. I suck at it. I hate it. Because of this, we live in what Fly Lady calls "C.H.A.O.S"...aka "Can't Have Anybody Over Syndrome."

Mr. Smiff promises when we get caught up, I can once again have a housekeeper come. I'm fearful that a professional would show up here, scream and run away crying "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Therefore, I have to clean house before the housekeeper can come and even then, I'm scared they'll not want to come.

My mother made it look so easy, the whole running the house thing. Course, she didn't work and had two kids as opposed to my three. (Those without more than two kids may not think there is much difference in the balance and rythym of the home between two and three kids, but oh there is.) Even so, my memories of home were that things were basically pretty together. There wasn't crap piled up on the kitchen table, the house was decorated pretty nicely, the bathroom was never yucky, like mine tends to get. I don't recall that my father ever really jumped in and helped out. I do remember her having her moments but all in all, home life was pretty idyllic. Mom wasn't a drinker or pill popper, that I ever saw, however, the Marlboros were ever present.

I've tried the Baby Steps on Fly Lady, read every book there is on organizing and having the perfect home but still, my skills as Domestic Goddess, after all these years are crappy.

I see these moms at church, school, etc. Perfect hair, perfect bodies, perfect looking children and want so bad to ask them "How?!?!?"

Anybody that cares to clue me in on how this is all done, please feel free.