And to think all I wanted to do was clean kitchen....

They say a kitchen is the heart of the home.  Obviously "they" haven't seen mine.  And heart isn't the organ I would have thought of to describe this room either.  Considering the stench coming from my refrigerator, "fecal holding container" is a better title.  My fridge is the absolute last, very last, thing to get cleaned out in my house.  I would rather clean the two upstairs baths after the boys have been outside mudding with their dirt-bikes than clean out the fridge.  I would rather clean the litter box barehanded than clean the fridge.  Which is why it gets into the state it currently is.  State, Uhm, yeah, as I wish it or I were in another one.

1st things 1st.  I clean out the sink, load the dishwasher up and turn it on.  This seems to act as some sort of early warning device to my children, who come from across town at the sound of the dishwasher being started.

  "We are hungry."

"You just ate 35 minutes ago."

"Yeah but we are hungry."

Now I have this feeling that the idea of a clean, empty kitchen upsets them.  No one in this house can stand the cleanliness of empty counter tops, empty sinks, clean stove, and if my island is devoid of all the usual paraphernalia, my family goes into shock.  Even my husband, ever the neat freak when it comes to his stuff, just can't take the kitchen being spotless.  If my family were ever to slip into simultaneous comas,   just the mere mention that the kitchen is now clean would revive them.

So I stop what I had started to do and make them lunch.  Which of course is 3 separate meals as God forbid any two of them would ever eat the same meal. I have tried valiantly over the years to explain that this house is NOT a delicatessen,  I was not now nor have ever been a short order cook and really, do you think I want to spend every waking minute cleaning up after your lunches??  Well, yes, they DO think I want to clean up after them.  I've made them clean up after themselves (which is how I ended up buying new silverware, they threw out the stuff we used to have), I had to dismantle the toilet on more than one occasion as they were convinced that if whatever they put in the toilet naturally, disappeared, then anything they needed to get rid of would also disappear.  I've retrieved a Barbie, more Pokemon balls than I care to think about, a whole bar of soap and a washcloth.  And that's just the stuff I can identify.  Some other stuff, I think aliens must have put that there and I truly don't want to know what it was.

So now they are fed, again, and I have cleaned up after them.  I start again.  Hubby dearest comes in.

"I am hungry."

Of course you are.  So I feed him, clean up after that meal and start in again.  I get half done and the cries of "I'm hungry" start up again.  I have come to realize that I didn't give birth to three children, I spawned three walking, talking bottomless pits.  Needless to say, by the time I see to their needs, it was time to start dinner.

My fridge?  Well, it still isn't clean.  But I am putting aside money for it.  I thought I detected movement towards the back and I figure in 18 years, whatever that thing is, it will probably want me to send it to college.