I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately after stumbling across a discussion where someone asked working parents to be brutally honest about their daily cleaning routines. The responses were refreshingly real and made me realise just how much pressure we put on ourselves to maintain some impossible standard of domestic perfection.

The original poster laid out their reality: two full-time working parents, a three-year-old, a dog, and the crushing weight of trying to fit everything into 24 hours while still getting the sleep they need for their health. Sound familiar? By the time they’ve done the morning rush, worked eight hours, squeezed in essential exercise, and handled dinner and bedtime routines, the day is done. Cleaning gets pushed to weekends, where exhaustion battles with the desperate need for just a moment to breathe.