A Wasted Life?

Do you agree?

My house could not be any filthier. In the past few weeks I feel as though it is gone over the tipping point into the land of totally out of control. I can't get a handle on it. Evan is in the habit of disrobing in multiple parts of the house, leaving a pair of underwear here, a sock there, a dirty t-shirt under the sofa. He also needs to remove every item of neatly folded clothing from his drawer in order to find just what he would like to wear.

The toy situation is also a disaster. I don't know why children seem to have such an inability to keep track of their play things. Pieces are scattered everywhere and nothing has all of it's original parts. A spiderman motorcycle might be found near the refridgerator, while Spidy himself has been hidden in the sofa cushions.

Food crumbs can be found in any room of the house. It appears that the boys enjoy eating crumbly crackers best in the living room, and mushy bananas in their bedroom.  Somehow my children are also are unable to eat a bowl of cereal without scattering bits all over the kitchen.

And the bathrooms? Oh don't get me started. Two little boys with no sense of direction. It feels as though I'm wiping piss off the floor two times a day and barely scratching the surface.

Finally the filthy animals that I willingly adopted so many years ago aren't helping the cleanliness factor one bit. A thin layer of black dog fur needs to be swept constantly. Dirty paw marks adorn the kitchen floor, Flander's puke stains are on our carpets and cat litter  is sprinkled throughout our home.

I can't bare it anymore. Yes I have help, as much as I can afford. One time every other week I have two lovely hard working women come to clean up after us. Other than that it is mostly me, (although yes, honey you are excellent at the dishes! Kisses!)  as I am the only one who truly cares about the state of our residence.

So what is a girl to do? I have become embarrassed about having anyone over, and I long for a clean home I can be proud of. Is it just one of those things a mother of three boys must come to terms with? Should I just expect that the house will be a pig-stye and move on? How can I let go?

Advice please.