Mama to the rescue

Oh my gosh, a little angel I like to call “Mother” just sent us a care package, and inside it I found these.

(I want you to know that I almost ran up three flights of stairs to get the nail polish to make my toes cute before taking this, but I decided it wouldn’t be honest. Also I hate stairs.)

As has been previously hounded on this site, I hate all these tile floors. Yesterday I mopped and by last night it looked like we’d had a soup fight in the kitchen.

And then my husband came home with the mail.

My mama, bless her beautiful soul, had thrown these into the mix for yours truly. Is there anything better than a mother who listens to you and tries to help you problem solve? I think all my housekeeping anxiety is giving her anxiety, she’s so worried about my stress level. On a whim, she picked these up for me and seven little postmen later I was donning my new soggy green slippers.

Five minutes of dancing in my kitchen and my floor looks like this.

I’m like a roomba with a heart, these babies have been on my feet all morning. I no longer walk up the stairs, I mop up the stairs. Picture a post-partum thirty-something Tom Cruise. I found myself skidding all over the upstairs family room jamming to 80’s tunes just because I’m home alone. How long has it been since cleaning my floors was fun? Oh, that’s right, never.

And the best part? I can feel myself burning calories, way more than I get from pushing the mop around.

I don’t know where to find these, but if you have solid floors that thwart you at every tile, please go buy some, put in an old Tiffany tape and your life will suddenly be made up of sparkling floors and glistening arm pits. So very cool.

I heart you, Mama.