I never had anyone else clean my house until I was 33. It was a family project when I was a kid though I'm sure my mom did the lion's share. In my post-college group houses, we divvyed up the duties. I'm a bathroom fan. We actually never cleaned unless we had a party, so we made sure to have a party once a month. John and I had some similarly casual approach when we started living together. I'm a slob and don't really notice or care about dirt. John cares more but not enough to be in charge.

But then we were living in South Bend, Indiana where there is absolutely nothing to do—no good restaurants, no good theater—and a cheap standard of living. So, we thought, let's splurge, and we hired a cleaning company.

That splurge turned into a way of life. I got used to my house actually being dust bunny free. I got used to not going into a panic when company was coming wondering if they would discover the sticky spots on the floor.

This explains why my children had never actually seen me wield dust rag, broom or mop.

Then it wasn't working out with our cleaner. We adored her. She adored us. We adored her daughter. It was all dandy except she'd have to reschedule five times before each visit. That's five times of tidying up the house, cleaning up after entropy boy who just as soon as you picked up his legos threw his box of cars on the floor. It was making us crazy. We talked to her about it several times. Then the financial crash happened, and we were looking for splurges to cut out. So, I got my nerve together and fired her. It actually went very well. Frankly, she seemed relieved. Perhaps all the missed appointments had been a message as well.

Since I really wasn't going to notice when the house "needed" cleaning, I made a schedule and told the kids if they were really good, they would get to help. By gum, it's been working. Rose, of course, adores it. She's been wanting to scrub down the sink and get to actually use the mop for years. I can put her in charge of the upstairs bathroom while David and I do the downstairs. Rose, as she is in all things, is extremely thorough. David is more haphazard in his approach, but he does like to dust. I don't mind the extra job because as long as I'm doing it with the kids, it's my same job with different activities.

John accuses me of being Tom Sawyer—hey kid, wiping the dust off this baseboard is really really fun, want to give it a try? But it is really satisfying to get that streak of black on your dust rag. The kids are still young and naïve enough that they don't know this is supposed to be a chore. I could go into a long dissertation about the importance of learning to clean up after oneself, but as someone who didn't do it for almost 10 years, I think my ice is pretty thin there. I'll just say it's a good skill.