Hosting a Confirmation party requires an almost industrial level of cleaning

I wish someone had warned me that when I had children, my house would never be clean again. Everyone is mad to tell you about the sleepless nights, the dirty nappies and the terrible twos but nobody tells you that you will live in a tip until they leave home.

It’s Confirmation Weekend which means a shindig in the house. An event like this requires a level of cleaning that cannot be carried out by one woman alone. We’re talking skirting boards and window sill jobs – cleaning the windows inside and out, ploughing through the heap of crap which has accumulated in the hall, painting the porch which has been peeling for well on ten years and spraying the sofas with Febreeze to get rid of the smell of dog. It’s a major operation.

It took myself and Himself the best part of a week to complete. He may have lost the run of himself with the paint brush (he painted the shed door and the back wall which no one is going to see) but he did a good job. He even deweeded the gutters which I didn’t know was a thing until he pointed out the jungle growing on our roof.

I found 13 socks under the sofa and €9.65. I also found various mouldy and unidentifiable pieces of food, a lighter and a lipliner. By Thursday evening the house was so clean I was tempted to take photos for posterity because it was never going to look like that again.

‘If ye so much as drop one crumb or dirty sock anywhere – the two of you are dead!’ I informed the children. ‘If you kill me how can I make my Confirmation?’ inquired The Youngest. ‘You can do it post humously,’ I replied with a finger wag. ‘I’m not joking now lads. This house is to remain spotless until Saturday.’

I took out the ‘good’ towels and the ‘posh’ soap and warned they were to be only used by guests. ‘What are we supposed to use?’ asked the Teenager. I pointed at Lidl’s best hidden in the corner and a threadbare towel behind the door. ‘And if you’re going to use the loo, make sure you bloody flush!’

In retrospect it was a long shot. I shouldn’t have had such high expectations – that maybe my children could stop being such dirty little urchins for just a couple of days. A house inspection on Saturday morning uncovered 3 dirty socks in the living room, a big chocolately hand print on a cushion and the smell of dog sh**e emanating from the arm of the mutt’s favourite chair. They’d also eaten all the Haribos I had laid out for the small ones.

‘Maybe we should get a cleaner…..you don’t seem to be able to manage it all on your own,’ mused The Teenager.

And count to ten…

HE LOST THE RUN OF HIMSELF PAINTING THE SHED DOOR AND THE BACK WALL- WHICH NO ONE IS GOING TO SEE - BUT HE DID A GOOD JOB