Domestic Distress!!

1. Bad, bad night for Layla with her teeth. (Almost zero sleep for me.)
2. But I'm still enjoying my glossy lacquered nails - AND toenails. At least I can be glamourouslyshattered!
3. Instead of actually painting, I nearly started a new blog about my painting. Realised I was really just procrastinating in an incredibly self-deceptive way: I believed for a few minutes I was actually working! Have decided to blog about my art on this blog if I really have to!
4. And now for the absolute crux of why I am here today: I need help! But constructive help only, please. Why?

... My house is a mess. There are some areas which are pristine and fantastically organised - but they are frustratingly few and far between. When I was pregnant, I was so badly bloated and exhausted, that not having enough energy to keep it tidy didn't bother me too much. Now that Layla's older and easier, I find that I get stuck into setting the house to rights - only to have it all fall down like a sandcastle smashed by the inevitable wave. (Funny little metaphor - but that's what it really feels like to me. Like I've spent hours playing and creating and perfecting, only to watch in horror as the waves creep closer and closer... and then to watch as it crumbles down upon itself and disappears into only a memory of itself.) I think it New York Mayor Giuliani's notion of 'The Broken Window' that's at fault for 99% of the messes in my house. i.e. when there's a broken window in an otherwise nice neighbourhood, it attracts naughty, loitering boys - who then scribble a little graffiti on the wall, and maybe break the next window along. Then a gang moves in to claim it as its turf, and the drug dealer's the next step. Etcetera etcetera. The solution: prevention is better than cure: so when there's a broken window, fix it immediately so it doesn't attract more brokenness.
I've tried to explain that to my other half who really does seem to try his best but honestly doesn't have a tidy bone in his body - so while he agrees with needing to clean/tidy straightaway, he can't seem to put it into practise. Hence, my chronically messy house that, when someone unexpectedly knocks at the door for a visit, has my heart going into miniature cardiac arrest, or telling a white lie like, "I was just about to leave for the dentist" (even though I'm blatabtly un-ready in my pink polka-dot gown and steaming mug of coffee!)
So: any advice or CONSTRUCTIVE ideas? One idea I've had is to get in a cleaning service once every two weeks to vacuum, dust etc, so I don't have to spend so much time doing that sort of housework, and can then focus on keeping things tidy/organised. (If I tell Craig about this idea, he'll enthusiastically launch into telling me HE will do those things for me on weekends. But... does it EVER happen? You know the answer to that.)
Wondering if I should sign off the rest of the week to getting the house PERFECT, then begin painting again on the weekend? Even though I'm not anally-retentive about tidyness, I struggle to be creative if there are too many messes lurking around, making me feel distracted with guilt!

Vixen

Almost dry, my always efficiently short nails are painted the colour of dark, ripened cherries - the first time I've found the time and the energy to paint them. Toenails too! A minor miracle.

Upstairs, I can hear Craig brushing his teeth, and I suppose I ought to head to bed myself. But it's just been one of thosedays... when, as a mom and wife, you lose sight of your heart's little daily desires in folding clean washing, still warm and smelling of the late summer sun... in the soapy suds in the kitchen sink... It was a long day where the groceries got done ETCETERA, but my little studio space remained empty. Where can I find more time to paint? How can I magic more time into my day to write? Hmmm... even a solitary bath by candlelight (or moonlight) would be heavenly (and I'm trying not to feel guilty thinking about it...) Baths now are: Craig and I in the bath with Layla at 5pm, her plonked in her bright yellow bath seat, while plastic wind-up turtles and rubber fish find their way into all sorts of places I've not had visited in awhile. (Sigh)

Layla's probably going to wake in about 30min from now. I am awake every hour at night still with her. Teething pain, and its tummy pains (and resultant giant nappies at 4am we both have to wait for before she'll head back to sleep again for only another hour...) Some have counselled me to let my darling child 'cry it out' - but my heart is too soft: DAMN - she's awake. Better go.