My kids are muddy monsters. I don’t know how many times I have to remind them to leave their muddy things, especially the things attached to their once cute feet, by the door, and not to just keep walking all through my house, up the stairs and then plop down on my bed. It’s disgusting, and gross and it feels like it is only the beginning of mud season and I have miles of floors to wash before I can rest and it’s just

Not

Fair

I really do feel like a four year old ready to through a big tantrum. It isn’t fair that I have to be the one to clean up all their messes. And this is not a complain about my husband part because he does pitch in and help, though his version of help is usually getting the kids to do it, but hey it’s nice to not always be the person reminding the kids to clean up after themselves.

But still it is like never ending. Never, never, never ending.

And I know they have busy little brains that are busy working on all the things they are working on and that figuring out how to do a cartwheel or ride their bike on the grass is taking all of their brain power, but I mean

Mud

Everywhere

Absolutely everywhere in my house.

I just want to cry

But that would just mix with the dried mud on the floor, that I just swept, I swear and make more sticky mud.

Is that peanut butter on the stairs?

How did peanut butter fall on the stairs?

Food is not allowed in the upstairs of my house, everyone knows this. This has been a long standing agreed upon by the two adults who live here, rule.

There is chunky peanut butter on two of my steps.

I think I am going to cry now. I am out of paper towels at the moment, because hello, I am trying to be environmentally conscious and use washable rags as much as possible.

I don’t want to pick up this peanut butter with my hands. None of my kids are claiming to be involved, and I seriously doubt the cat has had anything to do with it.

Of course my dad would point out that if I had a dog I would never have found the peanut butter on the floor because the dog would have eaten it first. Completely ignoring the fact that a dog would mean four more feet to track more mud, dirt, ticks and burrs into my house. Not to mention that dogs have gross bodily fluids like kids, and this cat at least seems happy to go potty outside when it’s warm enough. And she buries her dropping so it’s not like I have to clean up after her like a dog.

Seriously peanut butter on my stairs. And I am sure each of my children have walked past it (managing somehow not to step on it I am not sure how that possible) at least 20 times…. Granted the stairs are painted brown and peanut butter is tan, but these are girls I am raising they are suppose to be good at picking out nuances, I mean we are trained for the gathering portion of hunting and gathering, so really, it shouldn’t still be there!

It means a separate trip for me. Because I almost never go up or down the stairs without having my hands full. I usually have a tote bag on my shoulder with my knitting, phone, tablet and book (s) and a drinking vessel in the other hand at the bare minimum. Plus I broke an ankle less than a year ago, so really peanut butter on the stairs is a huge safety hazard.

Maybe they just think it looks like mud?

Maybe as the comedian Dennis Leary once shared, it’s like a PB & J sandwich that was flying around and needed a place to park. In the VHS player. Where you put a VHS tape.

Thank the Goddess I have never found anything parked in the DVD player.

I think that’s why we keep it sideways so it doesn’t look like a drawer of any kind.

But seriously PB on the stairs?