I often feel like this image represents one element of my life. It is Sisyphus - who, in Greek mythology, was punished. His punishment: he had to push a boulder up a hill and then watch it roll down again, over and over for all eternity. My Sisyphean equivalent is house cleaning. My boulder is the toil associated with my house.
I know this sounds crazy as I have testified in recent posts - I love my house. Love it with a passion. But what is it about my little family, that they insist on messing it up all the time? In an endless cycle: I clean it up, they mess it up. And again, and again.
I so wish I was one of those mothers who just let it go. Does a messy house = happy kids?
What I find deeply ironic is that most of us do want to have beautiful houses - look at half the housey/interior/'a slice of beauty' blogs we follow - that are almost impossible to emulate in real life. In those houses, where is all the kiddy plastic? Where are the 15 pairs of muddy shoes in the hall? Where are the mismatched Barbie and Polly Pocket outfits? Where is the polyester Batman costume belt and the Superman cape? These are the questions...
I worry that my kids will think back on their childhoods with memories of me rushing around after them tidying up like a maniac. I really try (honest I do) to let it go. To just live in squalor and filth and be content. But I am afraid there is something in me - something deeply rooted, that yearns for images like this...
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Mental note: got to get a blackboard somewhere in my house...
Playrooms with only wooden toys....I did once mandate one Christmas that the children should only have wooden toys - let's just say Father Christmas wasn't that popular that year! 
Right - I am off to tidy up... ;-)
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