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Two Gals & A Broom Reviews from Real Customers
How I Finally Threw in the Towel (Literally)
OK, so. I’m not a complete mess. (I mean, mostly.) But there’s only so much one human can do when you’re a single parent in KCMO, working 9-to-5 at this accounting firm downtown, and your 8-year-old, Liam, has soccer practice like… every dang day. (Seriously, who schedules games at 7 AM on Saturdays? Monsters.)
Anyway. My house? Yeah. It was bad. Like, “mystery stains on the couch” bad. “Piles of laundry that may or may not be clean” bad. And don’t even get me started on the kitchen. (I swear, the dishes multiplied when I wasn’t looking. Gremlins. Had to be.)
It wasn’t always like this. Pre-divorce, things were… manageable. But now? Between hauling Liam to Sporting KC games (his obsession), surviving Westport traffic (ugh), and pretending I know how to meal prep (I don’t), cleaning fell off the radar. Hard.
Then came The Incident.
So, Liam’s friend’s mom drops him off after practice, right? And she kindly offers to come inside to “chat.” (Translation: judge my life choices.) And there it is—the moment she steps over a rogue LEGO and side-eyes my dust-covered coffee table. Mortifying. I wanted to melt into the floor.
That night, I Googled “house cleaning cost calculator” at 2 AM while eating cold pizza. (Classy.) The numbers weren’t terrible, but still. Money’s tight. Could I justify it?
But here’s the thing—I was tired. Like, bone-deep, “can’t even” tired. My weekends were spent scrubbing half-heartedly while Liam begged to go to the Nelson-Atkins or, god help me, Scheels. (That giant Ferris wheel haunts my dreams.) And the guilt? Oh man. Either I was neglecting my kid or my house. No winning.
So I bit the bullet. Hired a cleaning service.
First time they came? Magic. I came home to this… smell. Like lemons and sanity. Floors so shiny I could see my reflection (and my questionable life choices). No more toothpaste globs in the sink. No more mysterious crumbs under the couch. (Turns out, it was goldfish. Of course it was.)
And the time it freed up? Liam and I actually went to Loose Park without me stressing about the mountain of laundry at home. We ate ice cream at Betty Rae’s and didn’t rush. (Well, except when he spilled his cone. Kids.)
Was it weird having strangers in my space? Yeah, a little. (I may or may not have hidden my weird collection of novelty mugs. Judge me.) But worth it? A thousand times yes.
Now, is my place always spotless? Nah. (This is still me we’re talking about.) But it’s livable. And I’m not drowning in guilt or Clorox fumes.
Funny how help—even the kind you pay for—can feel like a deep breath. Like finally putting down a weight you didn’t realize you were carrying.
Also, Liam’s friend’s mom? She hasn’t side-eyed me since.
— Jules Callahan, Kansas City, MO