Balancing the Clean

The baby is in the bath, he is learning to move his feet in order to get the water to splash. We put up a mirror for him, but he has yet to discover that.
I turn my head for a moment, and zero in on a dead fruit fly on the window sill. My gaze trails down to the floor and hones in on little bits of toilet paper resembling snow. Worse yet, I can see dust in the corners of the floor.
But back to the baby.
Amanda and I love to bathe him together. It is our family time every couple of days, it's become a real treat for us both, watching Jace's thoughts begin to connect there in the soapy water.

I carry him out to the living room and see a small rodent run by. Wait...no, it's not a rodent, it's a dust bunny. Fuck. How long has it been? I can't remember the last time I swept.
I look around, clutching the baby to my chest like the last pair of boots at a sample sale. Every flat surface has clutter. I fucking HATE clutter. Clutter is my worst nightmare. If my house is going to be cluttery, we might as well move into a trailer park, start smoking Kools, and drinking Bud Light. Clutter is that bad to me.
Everyday is pretty much the same for Jace and I. We wake, marathon nurse on and off for hours and when he finally falls asleep, I spend that time doing dishes, making dinner, and cleaning house. Or so I thought.
I guess I never realized just how much time the baby takes up and just how little time I really have to clean. Sometimes I look up from Jace's cherubic face and whole hours have passed.
Last night I tip-toed downstairs after the baby fell asleep, and at 2:30 in the morning, cleaned out the refrigerator. While that sounds like brain death for most people, I found it exhilarating and gleeful. I love cleaning. I am, after all a Virgo. Organization makes my soul happy.
At first I thought to myself I must find balance. Time to clean the house, to put away the camera, the nail clippers, Amanda's work boots.
But then I know, right now, there's no such thing as balance. Even if I tried, all I really care about is spending time with the baby. I want to be there for him always. Not just when he needs something, but I really like the time we spend together, bonding. Breathing in each others breath, his hand holding my finger, watching him stretch out on a blanket on the floor.

And I don't mind sneaking in a random cleaning session in the middle of the night. If I have the energy, then I'll do it. But I won't pressure myself to be or do anything more than I can right now. That's a recipe for an unhappy momma. And I want to keep things light and airy in this house.
The clutter won't go anywhere. I keep the house clean enough. Though it doesn't really meet my pre-baby standards, eventually, when the baby is older, and needs less of me, I will get back into the swing of things. Wood will become polished, frames will be dusted, dogs will again be brushed. I myself, may even get dressed, instead of living in pajamas.
Housekeeping standards. They have lowered.
This is just one of the way things change after you have a baby.