Dirty feets

My children have discovered that a gigantic pile of dirt in the front yard is THE. BEST. TOY. EVER. I'm so glad we bought them a cellar so they'd have a place to play. I mean, the forty gazillion dollars worth of toys in their bedrooms left them feeling so deprived. Who knew that a $2400 cellar and the dirt pile atop it would become their favorite toy ever, thus eliminating the need for me to repeatedly clean their rooms since I'm now going to put all of their toys in the next garage sale.

I have to sell their toys to pay for the carpet cleaning that we now need.

Last week at church camp the other three sponsors and I hollered "DOOR!" at least ninety times an hour because all 32 of those kids were born in barns. The air conditioner was on the fritz and had to be coddled; meaning, the air conditioner only conditioned the air to about 81 degrees then it threw its hands in the air and said, "I give up. YOU keep it cool in here."

This week, however, my battle cry has changed from "DOOR!" to "FEET!" My children walk in the door with their Crocs poufing up clouds of dust and my blood pressure goes through the roof. I gotta give 'em some credit - they do manage to kick off the shoes before stepping off of the brick entryway, but their feet. OH THEIR FEET. I have never seen such dirty piggies in my life! And when you put copious amounts of dust into sweaty Crocs.....you get mud. That sweaty mud has somehow been transferred to my carpet.

I am not a happy momma.

However, I have three happy kids. And the need for a steam cleaner.