Shovelling Snow.

Cleaning the house with John around... I can only compare it to shovelling snow when it's still snowing. (ie. impossible!)

I'd like to think I'm quite house proud. Whenever Iain springs a surprise visit from friends on me, I dash around like a mad woman - hoovering up the dust bunnies, washing the mountain of dishes and scrubbing the otherwise disgusting toilet. All before anyone arrives, thus creating the illusion of a well-maintained home.

Ok, so maybe I'm not that house proud. But I like to keep up appearances. It's my own burden to bear. I secretly judge peoples homes when I'm the visitor, so I expect them to be doing the same to me. And of course, in the big scheme of things, it means very little. I'm sure that even the most house proud person will have days when the laundry has piled up quicker than their washing machine can handle, particularly those with kids too.

Recently though, our house and hit all new types of low. Hyperemesis isn't just having its toll on me, but it's been taking it's toll on our home too. My Mum has been a god-send. On more than one occasion she's appeared with rubber gloves on-hand, ready and raring to scrub. But with John, it all soon piles up again.

Today though, today I made a start. I'm finally getting my Hyperemesis under control with a mixture of anti-sickness meds, so the top of my list of things-to-do now I'm more able bodied is, of course, gut the house.

My Sunday has been spend hoovering, mopping, doing the laundry and making a start on sorting the mountains of junk that have piled up over the past few months. And I've made some headway. At least, enough to get me motivated to continue the battle tomorrow - despite John throwing lasagne on my freshly mopped floor... That does nothing for my motivation...