Neverending Cinderella

My house was dirty. Not just messy but dirty. The floors were sticky with juice and food from the mouths of babes. Mud and dirt tracked in on shoes of the hardworking. Dust was collecting dust in various corners and surfaces in every room. Clothes and toys cluttered the bedrooms and not just their own but ours as well. Laundry, which is a pile that seems to remain the same insurmountable size, has been staring me in the face for awhile now. And even when the clothes actually get washed it's the ironing pile that really kicks me in the ass.

And so with this disgusting home becoming more than I could stand, I decided today would be the day to get some cleaning done. Now, every day I do the dishes by hand (because this house was not blessed with a dishwasher) nearly five times a day. And that was the case today as well. Dishes had been cleaned numerous times today. Laundry was getting done and put away. I began to vacuum and vacuum until every nook and cranny had been sucked on by the magically dirt collecting machine. I even got out the little hand vacuum to get all the edges and corners. Then I proceeded to get down on my hands and knees and scrub the enormous amount of tile flooring that we have. I scrubbed and washed and cleaned until it was shiny and presentable to the world again. No sooner did I finish cleaning did my four year old come hauling ass through the kitchen and living room straight from outside where he had been playing in the sandbox with his little brother.
Now, I don't know whether or not to just sigh and realize this is what comes with children territory and clean again or shoot myself. I mean, I knew that the house would not stay clean for long. I know this because every week I clean, shit, every day I clean and it appears as though I have done nothing. I don't really know what the point of me even pretending to get the house cleaned up is for? What are my efforts going towards? The five minutes of cleanliness that I get to watch while out of the corner of my eye I see two little boys just getting ready to throw every toy they own back on the floor, trek mud through the house, and drop food and drinks in their paths like a couple little Hansel and Gretels trying to find their way back home.
It is really starting to get on my mother and housewife nerves. I know everyone feels it. I know it comes and goes with intensity. However, today was just one of those days. I feel like I am down on my knees scrubbing and cleaning just so I can be locked up in the tower never to go to the ball. A goddamn Cinderella story that is never ending. Sure, I have the most amazing Prince Charming already on lock and my kids are the most adorable, sweetest, and genius little critters on the planet but all that aside... well, I have my moments of selfish, ungratefulness and often just want to have a clean house and some quite time. I just want to stop cleaning and cooking and washing and ironing and talking in vain. Ah, that must be the housewife/mother's prayer.