To the woman who thinks she can judge me

Today, my landlord, who offered to clean the carpets in Kincaid's room after the mold eradication, said something to me that made me feel about an inch tall and incapable of mothering my son any further. She is not a mother. She offered to do this for us, and I'm beginning to wonder if she only offers to do things so that she then has the freedom to give us guilt trips about all the "man hours" she's spent helping us. The current tally is 25. She says she wants no payback one day, that she just wants to help because she knows we're overwhelmed, and the next day she says, "I hope you're enjoying your trip, because I've been working since you left." Does she want to do us a favor, or is she just out to build up the guilt?



I told her that we would clean the carpets next weekend. She said, "We'll just do it while you're gone, it will be easier." I told her that we would pay for the rental of the steam cleaner. She said, "Oh no, we'll use it, too, and get our bedroom carpet clean." I then said that we'd like to at least split the cost, as it's our responsibility to do this. She shooed that idea and said she was happy to do it for us.



Today, Kincaid and I stopped in to say thank you, as the house looked good and they'd also done a once-over on the living room carpet that was exposed.


We chatted about our trip, and how exhausting it was to take three flights each way, etc... At some point she stopped and said, "Well, I have this to say after spending 25 man hours cleaning down there (meaning in our apartment).You would probably all be healthier if you lived in a cleaner environment."


I think I responded with something like, "We do our best; it's hard with me working from home and taking care of a baby, too." What I wanted to say was, "If you want to judge how clean we're able to keep our home, perhaps you should live a week in our shoes first, and find out how much time you have to devote to floorboards and dusting picture frames."


Or something much nastier.


Truthfully, the mold is a product of several variables, which are perhaps the result of poor planning on our part, but are not the result of us being dirty people or bad parents. To give some background, Kincaid's bedroom is at the back corner of the house. Two walls are outside walls. One wall is against a closet, the other against the bathroom. Right outside of his room is a washer and dryer. This winter, because his windows were so drafty and leaky, making his room about 10 degrees colder than the rest of the house and wasting heat, we put plastic film on the windows like most people do around here, to keep the heat in. In addition, at the advice of our doctor to help with cold symptoms and breathing at night, we ran a humidifier.


No ventilation + humidifier + proximity to the bathroom and washer/dryer = MOLD.


We didn't find the mold until February. It was hiding behind a coat in the closet. We immediately cleaned it with bleach solution, removed the plastic (even though it was still freezing), and tried to keep the room more ventilated.


Of course, we told our landlords about the mold, and they were unhappy with us that it had come back. Around 2006, they put in a good amount of money cleaning up after this place flooded due to bad plumbing. They replaced half the carpet and had any mold (mostly under the carpet and behind the drywall) removed and replaced parts of the walls. Mold had already been here. I imagine that to them, seeing it return was frustrating. We were only trying to do two things: Keep our baby warm and breathing. It didn't occur to us at the time that those two things together would create the perfect environment for mold. Looking back, of course, it seems obvious. When our landlords heard that we'd had plastic on the windows, they were angry.


Well, I think anyone would put plastic on windows that were as drafty as these, especially in a baby's room. We were also facing high heating costs over this eternal winter from hell. Conveniently, they looked more closely at the windows and discovered they needed some maintenance. Surprise.


So, our landlord, on her own, offered to come clean the walls in Kincaid's room and clean the carpets. I offered to do it myself, and she said that it would be too hard for me to do it while taking care of Kincaid. Now I'm thinking she just thought I was incapable. I don't know what she thinks of me, but it sure is different from how she treats me.


Part of me wants to tell her she should either be up front and real with me, or just not bother to help us anymore. If she isn't going to offer help without also expecting to be able to comment on our parenting or cleanliness or whatnot, then she can stay next door and keep to herself. I suppose I feel so hurt by her comments because she comes across as genuinely wanting to help. When she then turns and makes it clear that she's keeping a tally of how much time she's spent helping us, I feel betrayed. I am always gracious for her help and give gifts. Travis offers sweat equity in payment when they won't accept money. We fix little things all the time without even telling them.


She wants to be a mother to me when I already have three, and none of them are quite so quick to judge. Perhaps because they have been here themselves. I am also hard enough on myself and do not need anyone else to tell me that I could be doing a better job. I know our house is not clean. I know the bathtub needs a good scrubbing. I know the floor needs to be mopped more often. I know the dog hair is ridiculous. I know the living room is cluttered. I know my child has dog hair on his clothes after crawling on the floor. I do sweep, I promise. I even Swiffer. And yes, I brush the dog. She also said that the dog was the cause of most of the cleanliness problem. If she was insinuating that we should get rid of our dog, I might lose it. I would sweep five times a day in return for the love, loyalty, and joy that dog brings to this house. I wouldn't go a day without Dexter in our lives, hair and all. Plus, he helps keep the kitchen floor cleaner than I ever could by happily eating whatever we drop, unless it's onion, banana, or garlic.


In addition, for someone who's never been in my shoes to tell me I could have a cleaner house is infuriating. Apparently we aren't trying hard enough. Believe me, I'd like my house to be cleaner. But between working from home and trying to take care of an 11-month-old, the chances to scour the tub are rare. I barely have time most days to empty and fill the dishwasher and keep up with basic laundry. Forget mopping and things like cleaning behind the fridge and vacuuming behind the couch.


I suppose I could do those things, but it would mean ignoring my baby fussing, or ceasing to do things like take walks with him, go to the library, read books, play on the floor (or now, thank God, in the back yard!), or try to document his speedy growth during this fleeting first year. I doubt I'll look back on this year and think, "Wow, I sure wish I'd taken a toothbrush to the grout more often," or, "My life would feel more complete if I knew there were no crumbs under the stove."


If you know me, you know I'm not the neatest person on the planet. But I like to think I at least take care of the necessities, like dishes, laundry, and the bathroom. Our tub is well overdue for a cleaning, but the toilet and sink are fine. I am simply not a neat freak, but I am also not gross. I've long outgrown the moldy cups of orange juice that populated my bedroom as a teenager, along with the makeup stains on the carpet. I am still a fan of stacks, and am still guilty of taking off my clothes and not sorting them into the appropriate laundry baskets right away. I am still fond of taking off my shoes whenever I sit down, instead of when I come in the door. I still have a couple of water glasses by the bedside table, along with a few books I'm working on.


I desperately want my home to be more organized than it is, which is a work in progress, but I refuse to put "whiter than white" ahead of my duties as a mama and a teacher. I don't know many other mothers who work from home. I imagine (maybe?) the house would be cleaner if we were here less often, but maybe not. I wouldn't have it any other way than the way it is. I would love to have the help and support I need to be a happier, healthier person, but I hate to say, that does not include a spotless, dogless house. If we aren't to your liking, Ms. Landlord, you are welcome to boot us to the curb.