By the time we get the kids home, have dinner, and do their homework, I am mentally done for the day and the clutter is the last thing I think of. Certainly my kids and husband don't think of it. I have to remind them to do the dishes they have to do every day; they never think of that either. It occurred to me this morning that it wouldn't take me very long to pick up the little clutter that accumulated over the weekend. Actually a lot of it is my responsibility, there is mail stacked on the coffee table that I moved from the kitchen table so we could eat; there are magazines on the floor from my reading basket which I was rummaging through looking for some paper or other the kids handed me to sign; there are books that have overflowed the bookshelf which I have to clean out.
There are also some kid things scattered around, but it occurs to me it would only take me a few minutes to pick up, even the kid things. Maybe if I picked it up now and ran the vacuum around, it wouldn't be a wreck by the end of the week. But now that I've had a couple cups of coffee, it occurs to me the only thing worse than cleaning house by myself is when it's my mess.
I used to complain to my sister about having a cluttered house and blamed it on my family. She was quick to point out when I was single and living alone, my apartment was cluttered. I don't know, I think I like blaming it on my family better. By the end of the week it won't be just my fault, then I can make them help me. After all, my husband brings the mail in every day and sets it down, he could go through it. A lot of the papers that accumulate are from school, the kids could deal with those. It's not just me, at least that's what I tell anyone who drops by. Besides, I hate vacuuming.