Cleaning house........

When I was a kid, we'd always ask my mom what she wanted for her birthday, or mother's day or any other gift-giving occasion. She'd almost always reply "A clean house!" I remember thinking, wow, moms are SO boring if all they want is a clean house! Not toys? Not new clothes? Not a nice dinner out?

Well, now that I'm grown up - and my kids are (or nearly) grown, I can vouch for the fact that a clean house is the BEST gift. There's nothing like walking into a house that is in order, who's surfaces are dust-free, who's floor is not strewn with dog-hair tumbleweeds, who's bathroom surfaces are free from spittle drops on the chrome, who's kitchen sink is empty instead of teetering with dishes, and who's carpets have fresh vacuum marks. Ahhhhh..........nirvana!

It takes a lot of work to get a house that way. I don't know about you, but I know people who vacuum every day! I know, right? Who the hell has time for that? Or people who clean their bathrooms on a schedule or (gasp!) employ a cleaning service! Not this mama. I've never paid anyone to clean my house, and while that sounds heavenly, it also sounds like a lot of work on my part to pick up and organize so someone who lives outside my home doesn't see the real chaos and filth we live in daily.

Ok, maybe not filth. I mean, we're not hoarders and there's no mouse poop on the surfaces or months' worth of dog hair collecting in the corners. But there are piles of papers, half-finished projects and dishes where they shouldn't be on the daily. It's a never-ending cycle and it's never easy to get anyone to willingly clean.

Today, though, I did ask my son to clean his room. He announced to his sister that I was "holding them hostage" until the cleaning was done. While not quite that dramatic, I appreciated that he did a passable job of cleaning (although he left the house with no sheets on his bed so that means he'll likely sleep on the floor in front of the fireplace for several more nights until he's forced to put clean sheets on the bed). He even helped me with "the high stuff" which was taking down the Valentine decorations from the ceiling. And he did it without complaining. Seriously, if there was a Hallmark card that read "Thank you for not being an asshole about cleaning up the house I let you live in for free" I'd totally buy that card for him.

And I've done the dishes and wiped down the counters and vacuumed the upstairs and tackled a pile of filing six months in the making. But the thing is? I REALLY hate cleaning. I almost hate it as much as cooking. Sure, I love the end results of both, but I figure I have four kids and a husband so why should I EVER have to run the vacuum or wash a dish? Still, I do it. Because, as the mom, I'm the only one who will pick up the wrapper that dropped on the floor days ago, or actually MOP a floor on my hands and knees (ok, like once a year, but STILL), or wipe out that little plastic tray that sits in the fridge under the water dispenser and grows pink with mold unless I clean it. Maybe I just notice it more?

But, ah, the days when the house is clean! This usually happens just before a party or event we're hosting at our house. Everything is vacuumed, dusted, bathrooms sparkle, and we light candles. And I look around and think "Wow, this is MY house!" And then I sit down with an adult beverage and soak it all in. Ok, not really, but that's how I envision it. Even better is when I come home and one of my darling children (ok, just Arlie) has done the dishes and picked up and I don't feel like I immediately have to fix something before I can sit down. That doesn't happen often, but when it does? Those are the best days!

And I make plenty of messes on my own. My office is a disaster. How I long for some type of organizational system that stays organized. But I just have so many PROJECTS I want to do, and I start them, and I run out of time or motivation and then things get pushed aside for more interesting pursuits. I'm not sure I could function in a perfectly clean and organized office. A bit of chaos seems to unleash the creative process for me.

People often say our home feels so "comfortable" - that you can "just be" in our house. I think what they're really saying is "You don't have any nice shit so we can't mess anything up." Because it's true. Sure, we have things we treasure, but our 15-year-old flattish carpet has had plenty of stains, our walls are full of pinholes because we hang decorations up for every holiday and event, and our furniture wasn't all that special or expensive even when it WAS new. It's good that people feel comfortable here. We don't bother to take off our shoes (anymore), and sometimes we go to bed and leave teriyaki containers on the coffee table which results in the dog eating styrofoam all morning. That actually happened this morning and the dog's stomach is making weird noises as I type this so who knows? There might be a pile of dog barf in my future. No worries, we have a carpet cleaner!

And I know I make things harder for myself. For example, when the kids have a pile of friends over and everyone is snuggling and watching movies and using every blanket in the house, I find it necessary to wash ALL the blankets, even though they'll probably repeat the process again the next night. I'll spend WAY too much time organizing the art cabinet even though no one really uses it anymore. And how do things get so messy anyway? Like those crumbs that collect in your silverware drawer? Seriously, how?

So, I'd rather do anything (like blog, scroll through Facebook, eat a bowl of Lucky Charms, pluck my chin hairs, fold laundry) than clean my house. I'm avoiding it right now, in fact. But my husband just texted me that he's going to be home in a couple of hours, so I'm going to do a super fast clean so it looks like I've been cleaning all day. My aunt once told me all she had to do was fold the blanket on the back of the sofa and her husband would remark that the house was nice and clean. I figure if most of the surfaces can be uncluttered and the wind doesn't blow dog-hair tufts down the hall when the door opens, it's all good. And no amount of vacuuming is going to bring the pile of my carpet back to its original fluffiness. The hardwoods don't shine like they used to.

But it's home. And I like it here.

Cleaning, 101..........

My kids are pretty intelligent. Really, they are very bright kids. Except when it comes to cleaning. And picking up after themselves. And doing what needs to be done. And seeing those things.

The parenting gurus even have a name for it: executive functioning. Which is psyche-speak for "learning how to get along in life without running to your mother."

So, I'm really trying to teach this executive functioning, but I fear it may be too late. Even though I, like most moms, fostered the art of toy picking-up, plate putting-in-the-sink, toothpaste wiping-up-off-the-sink, etc. nothing seems to have stuck.

Case #1, a few days ago:
Me (reading from chore list): You need to sweep the hardwoods.
Child (actually, adult. But I'm not naming names): *Sigh* Do we even have a broom?
Me (incredulous): YES, we have a broom. The same broom we've always had. Stored in the same place it's always been! For the 13 years we've lived in this house!
Child-Adult: That's a crappy broom.
Me: It's just fine. And anyway, I'd prefer you use the stick vacuum.
Child-Adult: It's broken.
Me: What? Since when is it broken?
Child-Adult (shows me stick vac): See? It's broken.
(Dust bin from stick vac is unattached. It clicks in and removes for cleaning)
Me: Oh. My. God. Are you serious? You have obviously never used this vacuum because it just clicks right in here....(clicks dust bin).
Child-Adult: *Sigh* Well, it doesn't work very well.
(Well, not without the dust bin, no.)

Case #2, yesterday:
Me: What are you doing?
Almost-Adult (again, not naming names): What?
Me: Why are you sitting there with your clean clothes on the bed, NOT folding them, and looking at your iPad?
Almost-Adult: I, I, ....I have a system. Just....don't nag me!
Me: What? FOLD the clothes while you're waiting for the other ones to wash and dry!
Almost-Adult: I'm waiting for them all to be done so I can just fold them all at once.
Me (incredulous): That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard!! You have all this time RIGHT NOW to be folding and putting away your clothes!
Almost-Adult: Don't take out your frustrations on me! (Shuts door)
Me (opens door): I need to monitor your progress.
Almost-Adult: *makes unidentifiable sound - a growl?*

Case #3, tonight:
Teenage boy (no names!) "cleaning room" upstairs.
Me: Hears harmonica music.

I'm telling you, it's a lost cause. I know one day they will have their own houses. I can't wait to leave dirty dishes in THEIR sinks. Or wad up my dirty socks and stuff them in the corner. Or put candy wrappers under their coffee table. Or use the last of the toilet paper and leave the roll high and dry.

Oh, I have big plans!

You're doing it wrong......

Today, for your reading pleasure, I will provide a tutorial for all the things you are obviously doing wrong around the house. Through careful research and observation, I have learned what is, clearly, the "right" way to do things, because I am outnumbered in my home by people who do them this way.

First of all: cereal. If you enjoy cereal from time to time, you have probably observed the obviously faulty packaging. The cereal itself is packaged in a waxy bag that, once opened, can no longer be closed. In fact, just the opening part is challenging, and one must rip and/or cut it with scissors in such a way that most of the cereal will now fall INTO the box instead of OUT of it. Very disconcerting. Then, the box itself has a design flaw in that one is expected to push a tiny tab of cardboard into an equally tiny slit in the cardboard on the other side of the box. IMPOSSIBLE, I say! My genius children have discovered a way to get around these confounding problems. They simply leave the box open and the bag gaping. That way, the next time they want cereal, they don't have to take ANY extra steps to get to the flakes inside the box. What if they become stale, you say? No problem! They simply don't eat the cereal, leave the box standing wide open for months, until which time mom pours the stale wares into a giant ziploc bag labeled "duck food". Yay for feeding the ducks! I think next time I go to the store, I'll buy the most expensive box of cereal and just pour it directly into the retention pond at the end of my block. Same difference.

Now, let's move on to cheese sticks. Those darn things are SO convenient. They are low-fat, nutritious, and conveniently packaged in an easy-to-open plastic wrapper. Now, I prefer to open the package slowly as I bite each piece of cheese and when I'm done, place the plastic wrapper in a proper trash receptacle. My children, however, prefer to rip the whole thing off at once, devour the cheese and throw the wrapper on the floor. Yes, the floor. This astounds you? Clearly this is the proper place to put a cheese stick wrapper, because there's been one on my floor since yesterday morning. In the hallway. Nestled in a bundle of dog hair. A mere few feet away, my kitchen is spotless. But, alas, there is dog hair and a cheese stick wrapper in the hallway. Who put it there? That is the great mystery. Why? Because it's the right way to do it! How long will it lay there? Until I, and only I, stoop over and pick it up. Because no one else in this house can see it.

Now, here's how you do laundry. You wear your clothes until you have nothing left. Then, you borrow underwear from your stepdad's drawer because you are too lazy to wash your own, and you don't want to go commando. You stop wearing socks, insisting that the "no-sock" look is now in fashion, and you pull a sweatshirt out of the dirty laundry numerous times until that fateful day when you get an actual obvious stain on it that you can't hide and now you're really f*cked. What to do? You hoodwink your mom into believing you no longer have any clothes that fit. You mention this when you're at Target, exactly when you're passing the display of t-shirts that are on sale for $8 each, and after getting mom to buy a couple of those for you, you mention that your jeans don't fit and here are a pair on sale, and by the way, you could use some new underwear. Mom, under the influence of the hazy glare of Target lights and screamin' deals, buys you what accounts for a new wardrobe and you get a few more weeks' worth of clothing without ever having to touch laundry soap. Eventually, though, you WILL have to wash something. So, the best way to do it is to cram everything into the washer (lights and darks be damned), and make it really, really full so that when the spin cycle starts, everyone in the house resorts to "duck, cover and hold" because the whole-house shaking MUST be an earthquake. But no, whew, it's just the washer going off-balance again! After the clothes are dried, leave them in the dryer indefinitely and use that as your personal closet until someone finally puts your clothes in a basket because THEY need the washer and dryer. After that, use the basket as your closet, and if, by some rude chance, someone actually dumps your clothes onto a clean blanket on your floor because they need the basket, do NOT, by any means, finally hang and/or fold anything! Simply walk all over the clothes for another two weeks until you decide they are "gross" and need to be washed again. Repeat washer-stuffing process or trick mom into a shopping trip to Target. Repeat. Repeat.

Here's another fun cleaning tip for the bathroom. Whilst brushing your teeth, it's always fun to try and dribble a spitty blob of toothpaste directly into the sink, or, even better, ON the spigot. Leave it there indefinitely, adding blobs from time to time and see what a fun sculpture you can build with just toothpaste and your own spit! What? You were rinsing it down all this time? Fool!

And lastly, here's a fun decorating tip for the kitchen and surrounding area. Every time you open a package or unwrap a piece of candy or gum, leave the wrapper (or those colorful tear-off strips) lying around all over - the counters, table, floor, coffee table. These will add a pop of color to your otherwise boring decor, and provide a nice little treat for the dog from time to time, which can result in the most amazing and colorful dog poopies you've ever seen! In addition, they sometimes blow off the counter, mix with dog hair and make colorful "dust bunnies" (or "dust puppies"?) which scurry up and down your hallway in a most amusing fashion. And if they're lucky, they will stake a claim and take up permanent residence, like the cheese stick wrapper currently in my hallway. Come by and say "hey" to our newest resident!

I hope this has been helpful. I hope you have not been straining yourself by doing foolish things like closing cereal boxes, picking up trash off the floor, wiping up toothpaste accidents, and doing laundry regularly. That would just.....make sense. And who wants to be sensible in this crazy world?

The (dis)order of things........

I've come to the conclusion that it's virtually impossible to keep a house clean. Oh sure, you can CLEAN a house, but can you KEEP it clean? Not with kids and dogs and a kitten. I thought having one child away at college would surely cut down on the mess. And while the bedroom stays clean (but only because I spent three days, three precious days that I will NEVER get back, of my life cleaning it), and there are fewer ice-cream bowls and cups next to the computer, the general orderliness, or lack thereof, of the house is frightful.

For instance: at this very moment there are swim goggles on my bathroom counter. One of those large packaging tape dispensers is on the kitchen counter. The family room floor contains these items: a jacket, a pair of socks, candy wrappers, a large clump of dog hair, a video game and a stuffed monkey. Tonight I sorted socks and came up with five pairs and a basket of mismatched socks the size of a six-quart crockpot. From where I'm sitting I can see a blue feather boa, a pair of coveralls, a textbook, a bag full of bags (you know, the reusable variety? They are ever so useful when they are sitting in the entryway of my house and not with me at the store.), a Halloween skull, a bag of tealights, and a coupon for a free pizza. Within my arm's reach, I see a Victoria's secret bag, a gift bag, a coupon insert from the paper, a notepad, two bills, a bank statement and a Target bag full of candy (mostly wrappers) from trick-or-treating.

Sometimes I wish I were Amish. They don't have a lot of crap. We are the exact opposite of Amish. While the Amish favor a simple life with few material goods, we favor a life of chaos filled with crap. How much better my life would be if I simply had to choose between the blue and the brown dress each day. Instead, I have a dresser drawer with at least ten pairs of jeans in that don't even fit me! The really scary part is that I regularly "purge" stuff - clothes, household goods, craft items, even food. I always have a few large bags to give away when the donation trucks roll into the neighborhood. And we still have more.

George Carlin says we need "a place for our stuff". We get more stuff, and we buy a bigger place. I'm stopping at this house. This is the biggest house I ever hope to live in - from here I wish to continue to downsize until all I have left is a double-wide trailer and a toaster oven. Ok, not really. I still need shoes. But the point is, we all seem to have too much stuff. And that creates disorder and chaos and general discontent. Take my daughter's room, for instance (not the college daughter - her room is clean, remember?). My other daughter. Who is in high school. Who has a lot of clothes. And crap. And does not have any sense of order or organization. She is content to spend her days trodding upon her clean clothing, throwing candy wrappers on the floor and never dusting her room. Once I cleaned her room and found a spider in a pile of stuffed animals. I told her she would have spiders crawling on her while she slept (she was much younger then, so what? Scaring is a great parenting tactic!). That did not entice her to change her ways. Not at all. In fact, I'm certain she has spiders crawling in her room on a regular basis but does she care? She does not. Her room is a dark cave of despair. And she loves it. She crawls into her bed overflowing with Pillow Pets and a down comforter that "snows" feathers every time it moves and cocoons herself in her own disorder.

I get a little crazy when things get too bad. I grew up the worst of all pack rats. I could not bear to part with anything, ever. My room looked......well, like my daughter's room. I would spend a whole day about four times a year cleaning my room and then I'd be so proud, I'd make my whole family come and look at it. Once, in an attempt to win me over with humor, my mom posted a different poem each day, outlining how to clean my room, to my door. I laughed but did not get the hint. It wasn't until I was in my own apartment with roommates that I began to care at all what my room looked like. I like order and neatness as much as the next person, but I've found that my efforts are erased within minutes. I'll wipe off the kitchen counter and my husband will set his icky lunch box on it. Or a dog hair appears. And another. And another. The other day one of my kids put their SHOES on the kitchen table! Their shoes, with their sticky, germy, bacteria-ridden soles touching the place where we EAT! Who DOES that?

I honestly don't know how other people do it. I walk into their houses and see things in order, the white carpets neatly vacuumed with perfect vacuum lines, nary a dog hair on the counter. Do they walk around with Lysol wipes and attack every indiscretion as it happens? Do they restrict their kids from touching anything, having any clothes or toys, throw away all their artwork? Do they have dogs that simply never get muddy feet?

I would say "I give up" but I can't. I mean, I don't want anyone to report me to CPS or feature me on an episode of "Hoarders". But I really do not know how to keep a house clean when children, animals and a husband live in it. I told my husband last week that I wanted my own apartment. I don't think he bought it. I mean, I'm actually fantasizing about a new vacuum. My old one isn't working so well and the cheap replacement I bought is no match for our filth. I NEED the latest version of my old one. I actually get giddy when I go into the cleaning aisle at the grocery store. Today I bought antibacterial wipes and toilet bowl cleaners. I yearn for a clean and sparkling house that actually smells like "spring breeze" and not "dog breath". And yet, given the choice to clean my bathroom or waste an hour on Facebook, I'll choose the latter. I WANT a clean house, I just don't want to do it myself! Because I know no matter how much effort I put in, it will be ruined in a matter of minutes, hours or days. And who has time for that?

And the love keeps coming...........

It hasn't been the best of days around the old homestead. Yesterday evening we attempted to have a family meeting. Before we even started I heard this:
- Are we moving?
- Did one of you get fired?
- Is this going to ruin my day? Because I've had a really good day so far.......
- Is this going to end up with everyone mad? (side note: yes, it did. Sadly.)

Then, I launched into a carefully planned diatribe about chores, responsibilities, rules and budgets, with a little monetary incentive/reward program thrown in that was really a win-win for everyone. Here's the deal. Kids get paid a small amount each day they complete chores correctly and without being reminded. At the end of the week, if all went well, they are eligible for a bonus. Violations mean you pay us back. We can't afford a lot, but this would garner each kid roughly $30-35 a month if they just do what's expected of them in the first place. After the unveiling of the plan here is what I heard:
- So, you're basically going to just take all our money? (Talk about planning for failure!)
- This won't work because we don't have any money! (Duh, you have to earn it first!)
- Arlie's going to get all the money. (Well, hard work DOES equal good pay. And Arlie works hard).

Then, as always happens, there was the barrage of "well, she..." and "it's not my...." and "you always..." and "I never...". And things went downhill from there. And this is what I heard:
- You think she's SO perfect and she's not even your kid. Why don't you just adopt her? (Ouch.)
- This is bullshit. (If I swore at my mother, she'd have smacked my mouth. So sad that's no longer socially acceptable.)
- Shut up! (Excuse me?)

And I got mad. Because, personally, I don't think kids should swear at their parents and tell them to shut up. Call me conservative. And also? It's human nature to get defensive and angry when your weaknesses are pointed out. Things like laziness and lack of motivation. Generally when we get mad and defensive it's because of someone other than the person talking to us. It's the one in the mirror.

It's not like we're asking for hard labor. No one is digging ditches or sweating in a coal mine. I mean, really, check this out - we have the audacity, in this house, to expect our kids to do their own laundry. And to NOT throw their clothes on the floor. And occasionally scrub a toilet. And rinse their dishes. And pick up their socks. And not eat in the family room. And not take things that do not belong to them. These, my friends, these are the horrors I subject my children to. And I offered to PAY them. What was I thinking?

So, I exited the flaring tempers and retreated to my room. And had a nice, hot bath and was in bed by 9 p.m. But before that, I saw this:

All I wanted was one good day. Just one. I guess I don't even deserve that much. Why am I even alive if I can't do anything right? I'm done feeling like a worthless piece of nothing. So done.


That was my daughter's actual Facebook post after the fiasco. The drama. 


And now? I just don't feel like doing much for them. The self-centered attitudes and inability to see beyond their feet that are propped up in front of the TV just astound me. I wish they knew how hard life would get. How doing chores is insignificant compared to all the trials they will face in life. I don't want them to have a hard life, but if you never feel pain, how can you know what feels good? If you never fall, you won't know the joy of getting back up. If you never fail, you can't revel in your success. 


We give our kids chores because it helps prepare them for "real life". But what about kids who just don't get it? Real life will smack them in the face with a force so astounding it will take their breath away. And maybe knowing how to wash a load of clothes or dust a shelf won't make or break them. But if they can't even sit for a half hour with an ounce of respect and listen to solid guidance, if they can't see how doing their small part makes the whole so much better, then what will they learn? When will they learn it? 


They say if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So, maybe starting today, I will just do whatever I want. For example, I never feel like making dinner. Perhaps I'll stop doing that. I NEVER feel like making their lunches. I could skip that too. I rarely feel like driving them anywhere or picking up after them or letting them have their friends over. Think of the time that will save me! All that delicious, beautiful time to just do what I want and never worry about  the consequences. I could stop cleaning my bathroom, and never wash my clothes, but that would make me uncomfortable, so I guess I'll have to exert a teensy bit of effort. But doing for others? Not so much. I'm afraid I only have enough energy to be kind to me right now. I've taught them well. They'll figure it out. And if not? Then, maybe that lesson will finally be learned. 

Something to clean.......

This morning I thanked my husband profusely (there might have been tears) for cleaning our bathroom. It was long overdue and just yesterday morning I looked at it and thought "disgusting". If I were to use this bathroom in someone else's home, I'd be appalled. Yet, in my own home, I let it slide. Why? Anyway, great minds think alike (and apparently some of them actually put those thoughts into action) and my wonderful husband cleaned our bathroom last night (yes, he ruined another shirt with bleach but let's put petty things aside...). I was thrilled and wanted to express my gratitude so I gave him a big hug and a "thank you". He then replied "give me something to clean every day - if I do one thing each day, you know, leave it better than when I found it, then things will shape up around here." And, of course, my first thought was WTF? Am I not doing a good enough job keeping this house clean? (No!). But then I got over myself and suggested some things that desperately need a thorough cleaning. Among them, all three (yes, three!) refrigerators need a deep cleaning, the hardwood floors may contain deadly bacteria, and the pantry is stuffed full with various half-eaten packages of food products and an embarrassing amount of dog hair (the kids don't seem to remember the pantry floor when vacuuming). My husband just looked at me with a grimace and said, "yeah, that's not really what I was thinking" then proceeded to tell me he liked to "transform" things so they were obviously changed! Like cleaning our room. He went to town one day recently and "cleaned" our room, which really just meant rearranging and stowing my various crafts and hundreds of photos into other places. I will never find them now, which is probably just as well, because we all know I'm never going to scrapbook seventeen years' worth of my kids' photos.

His favorite "cleaning" project is the garage. Now, I have never understood men in that regard. My ex-husband used to busy himself cleaning the garage when we were planning for a party. Why? No one goes in the garage when you're hosting a party! Who wants to see your twenty Rubbermaid boxes of Christmas decorations? But for some reason, this is how he found himself "useful" and so I'd have a clean garage and be inside frantically wrestling children and trying to keep the dogs off the freshly mopped hardwoods. Go figure. Jeff enjoys cleaning the garage combined with a weight workout. He will do a rep of weights, then go around reorganizing our junk, then do another rep of weights. Never mind that there's a Pepsi can in the dog kennel amongst the many blankets they've chewed holes in and have now claimed as their own. That's been sitting in there for months, but the dozen or so softballs no one ever plays with are neatly tucked into their own little cubby.

I can't complain, though. Ninety percent of the time, he's the one cleaning up the really disgusting things like dog barf and poop. Just last night, he and the carpet cleaner became reacquainted at 4 a.m. when Shade decided to deposit the remnants of the last three days' worth of Christmas candy he's consumed (wrappers and all!) on our bedroom carpet. But we all had to pitch in with the pet indiscretion yesterday. For some reason, yesterday the pets decided the world was their toilet. I returned from yoga to find barf in the garage and office and poop in the family room and upstairs hallway. Everyone excpet Hannah ended up cleaning a portion of that. But she got hers - in the evening Georgette decided to drop a turd on the kitchen floor in the middle of a movie party. Nice. Hannah got that one.

Cleaning around here is never-ending and often feels like a futile effort. The only way things stay clean is when the kids are not here and lately there's ALWAYS a kid here. This week, for example, my kids were supposed to be with their dad all week. Arlie is in Spokane, so I was looking forward to a nice long week of a clean house, time to do projects, read my book, shop in peace, etc. But no. They've been here every day, having parties and creating a mess in their wake, not unlike Pig Pen's cloud of dust. And so we clean. And they mess it up. And they sometimes clean it up (although not without an eye roll or extended sigh), and the cycle continues.

So, while Jeff's "clean one thing a day" sounds like an ideal plan, it will never surmount the growing monster of clutter, trash and grime that follows a family of six. It's inescapable, and oftentimes feels like a preview for an episode of "Hoarders". But we keep cleaning and staying a half a step ahead of the chaos. And, by golly, my bathroom is clean right now so I'm going to thoroughly bask in the sparkling porcelain while I can because it might be weeks before I see the elusive gleam again.

Teach your children well........

When our kids are little, we teach them many "life skills".......such as dressing themselves, using the potty, brushing their teeth, taking a shower. We're so proud and happy when they achieve each and every milestone that, while basking in our happiness and pride, we often forget to teach the "fringe benefits" to each life lesson. For example, we teach our children to use the potty, but do we remember to teach them to change the toilet paper roll? Or to always make sure there's extra toilet paper in the bathroom? I'm pretty sure we don't, as evidenced by my children, who all use the potty like experts, but still can only manage, at the very highest level of competency, to unwrap a new roll of toilet paper and set in on the counter, inches away from the holder (oh, and they "miss" when they throw the wrapper in the trash).

Which is another life skill - good aim. I often find more trash outside the trash can than actually IN it, specifically in the kids' bathroom. Now, I KNOW I taught them that icky things go IN the garbage, but I guess I forgot to have them take practice shots so that the refuse would actually make contact with the INSIDE of the can. Kind of reminds me of their laundry bin. Definitely more clothes on the outside, carpeting the floor, than on the inside (in their defense, it's usually packed full, because that's another skill I forgot to teach them - if the laundry bin is FULL, one must actually DO the laundry to get it EMPTY again).

Now, I do remember teaching my little ones to brush their teeth. I supervised until I felt they had it just right and could polish those pearly whites to a gleam. What I failed to teach was how to spit without splattering the mirror and how to rinse rogue blobs of toothpaste down the drain. Silly me.

I beamed with pride the first time they made their own snack! What geniuses! What bright children! However, in my giddy glory of  pride, I forgot to teach them how to clean up after that snack, actually rinsing off the dish and putting it in the dishwasher. (Note to my children: the dishwasher is that big, squarish thing to the right of the sink that makes a whooshing noise a few times a day).

One of the trickier skills of childhood is taking lids off of various products. That's why they make childproof lids! But once a child is old enough to actually USE said products, that small motor skill of unscrewing or uncapping or flipping up a lid is refined. However, I also seem to have forgotten to teach them how to replace said lids. In fact, I'm pretty sure they think the lid is disposable!

My kids can make some pretty big messes. But that's ok, because we live in a pretty big house. Isn't that why we move to bigger and bigger houses as we have more children? So they have more places to leave their messes, and still manage to find a "clean space" to make another one? I think it's time to move up again. This time we'll need a mansion!

Who Made This Big Mess?

Anyone remember the show "The Big Comfy Couch"? There was this annoying person dressed as a clown named Loonette and every show she would make a mess and then go "Who made this big mess?" and then she would nod knowingly and say "Oh, me, huh? Well, I guess I'd better clean it up! It's only fair!" and she would go about cleaning up the room doing the "ten second tidy" (and quite cheerfully, I might add). Well, my kids watched that show faithfully but somehow that message never quite sunk in. They just left for their dad's house and here is a list of their indiscretions: sofabed still out, covers strewn about all over the floor, Monopoly game spread out over the garage floor, BB gun, BBs and eye protection thrown on the office floor, kitchen counter covered with plates, cups, a large bowl encrusted with pancake batter, mixer with beaters cemented in pancake batter..........I could keep going. The point is, they are now gone and unless I leave this mess for the next three days, I have to clean it up. In fact, I already had to clean up the kitchen mess because both sides of the sink were packed full of dirty dishes (and the dishwasher next to the sink was completely empty and ready to receive all those dishes). Hayley is the main culprit this time - the BB gun thing and the Monopoly game were Harrison but it was Hayley who left the bed undone and made the pancakes. And, I'm sorry, but she's 16 and she should know better (they all should know better, we have no toddlers in this house). To think that the magic cleaning fairy just comes and makes this all go away is just crazy. And it's even more infuriating that I can't do a damn thing about it. There's no way in hell their dad would agree with bringing them back to clean up (although, in my opinion, that's the solution to this problem). So, the best I can do is saddle them with extra, unpleasant chores when they return. And then they complain that "it's summer and we're supposed to be relaxing!" Yeah? Me too. In fact, I believe I have been so drained of energy that I shall need to refuel at The Rock or some other venue where adults go. And where there is no mess or pancake batter to clean up. Children, you have been warned! Yucky chores await you. Next time? CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELVES!

Boundaries

Ok, my last post was about how annoyed I was at people disrespecting the time and hard work I do, and this one, I'm afraid, is about not respecting my boundaries! And yes, the culprit once again is Hannah! I came into my bathroom tonight to get ready for bed and this is what I find (now, mind you, my bathroom is DISGUSTING right now, so it's not that I'm such a clean freak that I notice one little thing out of place): THREE dripping wet washcloths, partially covered with facial mask products, and draped over my sink spigot, two facial mask products lying on their sides on the counter (and covered with goop), and my face scrub that normally resides in my shower (but frequently goes missing) on the counter. Now, I ask you, WHY? Hannah has all of these products of her own, and if she doesn't, or she's run out, why can't she just ask to use them? And then take them into her OWN bathroom to use them, then return them? This is not just an isolated incident - I often can't find my makeup or other personal items because the girls seem to think that anything that is IN this house is up for grabs. And no one takes care of their own stuff. Case in point - each child has an envelope with their money in it that we affectionately call "Bank of Mom". Normally, I keep these envelopes in the office closet and the kids are free to get some money out of them (but understand that there is a card in there on which to write the balance, like a real bank account). Well, first it was grabbing a dollar here or a five there and being careless and finally, yesterday Harrison couldn't even find his Bank of Mom, and then remembered he was PLAYING with it in a game (duh, it's REAL money!). We finally found it, and I promptly put all of the kids' Bank of Mom envelopes in the safe (which only Jeff and I know the combination to), but shortly after that I found TWO twenty dollar bills in Harrison's room which he casually remarked that oh yeah, those were from his Bank of Mom. I mean, this is money! Recently I cleaned the kids' bathroom thoroughly (it took an ENTIRE weekend). I found no less than 30 partially used deodorants! This was because, on many different occasions, the kids had asked me to buy them new deodorant because (I foolishly assumed) they were "out". Now, with four kids, I certainly don't have time to check the inventory or monitor their use of personal products, so I took these requests at face value. But the real reason? They had simply misplaced their deodorant and were too lazy to look for it! This is just one example of how they don't take care of their things. As though we have unlimited resources. I just wish they would learn to respect boundaries - both personal ones and those that limit the resources of our already strained budget. Short of getting a lock and key on my bedroom and bathroom doors, I don't know how else to make them understand to leave my stuff alone! And to ask first if they want to borrow something. It's just crazy out of control..........not turning off their lights, leaving stuff all over the place, "borrowing" things, not being able to "find" things because they are too lazy to just pick up the clothes all over their bedroom floors to see it. They KNOW the right way to do things.........they have extensive chores so it's not like they are just "allowed" to do anything they want..........I don't know the answer. But I do know that I live in fear of the summer months when, for the first time, I will be working during the day three times a week (as opposed to being home which I've always been because I worked for the school district and had summers off). When I'm not home, they absolutely destroy the house, eat at all hours, leave wrappers and dishes all over the place and never clean up after themselves. And coming home to that every workday will put me over the edge. I lay down the law, but the follow up is like another full time job. I can only "police" their activities so much and if I went around behind them all the time, making sure they did everything the way they were told, I'd be spinning in circles. I don't know what the answer is, but it's draining............

Nothing much but something new!

So, nothing earth-shattering has been happening, but I feel a need to update the blog from time to time for all my loyal readers (ok, all three or four of you, right?). Last week Jeff and I hosted a BBQ for his department at work. We busted our asses cleaning the house. In particular, I cleaned out the kids' room (actually not Arlie's - I ran out of time and she's not here anyway, but still......). In Hayley's room I enjoyed unpacking no less than 7 bags (totes, duffels, sporty little backpacks) filled with the sad remnants of sleepovers past - deodorant, the errant toothbrush wrapped loosely in toilet paper (or not at all!), extra contacts, wadded up panties that were.......clean? Dirty? Not wanting to take any chances, all the clothing wound up in the dirty pile. And I realized, all those clothes she "doesn't" have? They were packed away in sleepover bags, taken to said sleepovers, returned to home, and relegated to the dark closet to be seen nevermore. No wonder she doesn't have anything to wear! In the end, I collected around 7 deodorants, three or four toothbrushes, $15 in change, and three huge bins of cosmetics, nail polish and toiletries. I especially enjoyed uncovering the party bag from Harrison's birthday party - in January! It contained some petrified candy specimens. I tossed an impressive number of candy wrappers from Hannah's room, too. And water bottles. I stopped buying disposable plastic water bottles at Costco, but did that stop Hannah's water bottle habit? It did not. She had five or six "reusable" bottles on her bedside table and strewn around the room. And who really needs 400 beanie babies anyway? Aren't those so YESTERDAY? Harrison's room always contains bits and pieces of broken dollar store toys and strange shapes of plastic that go to who knows what? Needless to say, I filled a large garbage bag, and an equally large laundry basket with items to be given away. I can't just throw away perfectly good toys, purses, unopened cosmetics and trinkets can I? My system also includes saving "unbroken, but unneeded" items for the geocaching backpack. Plastic beads, Happy Meal toys, rubber bouncy balls, those are the sort of swag we collect around here. When all was said and done, our house never looked cleaner and wouldn't you know it, no one went upstairs anyway? But for a couple of blissful days, Jeff and I could just walk down the "kids wing" and smile because all was right and orderly in the world. Then, the kids came back. I don't need to tell anyone with kids how fast the house can go from order to disorder in seconds once kids walk through the door. Between the annoying sounds of Spongebob coming from the TV, Toaster Strudel was left out on the counter, the milk found a permanent place on the kitchen table (because everyone loves warm milk, right?), and several pairs of shoes made their way under and around the table and in the family room. This is the bane of my existence. Sigh.

Rainy Day!

Yesterday was rainy, gray, cloudy, and just generally yucky. Wait, so is today. We keep getting news of "near 90's" weather later this week, but I'm not holding my breath!

So, after a morning appointment, and with Hayley staying home sick with a cold, I returned home to do the mundane tasks of housekeeping. Sometimes it's hard to get motivated to do anything on such a day, so at one point, I even tried to take a nap (no luck!). But I did manage to shave a slice off the laundry mountain, and in doing so, I realized that there was a sort of sweet satisfaction in just folding towels. Somehow, laundry just does that for me - even though I'm faced with an enormous task every day, the satisfaction of washing, drying and folding a load is a nice little accomplishment in an otherwise harried (or unproductive) day. So, I was thinking, is that so wrong? We grow up with these huge expectations of being "successful" but what does that mean, really? Am I successful because I'm spending the lion's share of my time raising four children to be "productive" members of society? And what is productive anyway? The bar has certainly been raised in recent years. Women my age are expected to maintain showroom homes, have exciting and fulfilling careers, raise children with impeccable manners and amazing intelligence, and maybe even take care of an ailing parent. How is anyone supposed to do all of that? I just don't believe you can do it all and do it successfully. Something has to give along the way. So, we have great kids and messy homes. Or great careers and bratty children. Or we don't visit our ailing parents as much as we'd like. Whatever the situation, it's not perfect. Because life is messy and decidedly "not perfect".

As I was folding those towels, I happened to look up on the wall where I have a small calendar pinned. The date was May 2007. One year ago! How is it possible that I have not changed that calendar in a whole year in a room where I spend a good part of every day? What else have I missed in a year that was right in front of my nose? Days meld into weeks which morph into months and before you know it, you have a calendar in your home that hasn't been changed in a year.

So, I was thinking about everything we do in a year. And how high the expectations are, especially where we live. Kids are overscheduled and frazzled. Homework runs up to three hours a night. And on top of that, kids are expected to maintain a schedule of lessons, ranging from music to sports that would make anyone's head spin! In the long run, is it really going to matter if my child played select soccer? Will that make them any more interesting around the dinner table when they're 27, enjoying a glass of wine and good conversation with friends?

I often think about this as I angle a way to "fit in" to these expectations and "norms". Am I crazy that folding a load of freshly laundered towels teeming with the scent of Tide and bleach, gives me a strange satisfaction and feeling of productiveness? Have I become a "productive" member of society, with my part-time job, my four kids, my huge mortgage and the requisite family dog? (Ok, three dogs. Overachiever!) What if what I'm doing IS enough? What if this is my contribution to society? Four kids who stay out of jail, go to college, have decent jobs and get their own huge mortgage someday? And maybe in my "empty nest" years I get a nice little job, or volunteer passion and spend the rest of my days traveling, working and kissing my grandkids? Doesn't sound too bad to me.

In the meantime, I'm going to throw away that calendar on the wall that's a year old. The year is past, and it's not coming back anyway. Nothing to do but forge forward and face another rainy day, and the hope for a sunshine reward at the end of the week!

The Anti-Mother's Day!

Yesterday I was charmed and treated and pampered by my children (ok, they gave me gifts and when I asked them to do chores they said "we have homework"). Today, however, I would like to point out the Anti-Mother's day. What's this you say? It's every day EXCEPT Mother's Day. It's coming downstairs after "my" day to find a half-empty bag of chips spilling out on the kitchen table, a bottle of red liquid (Kool-Aid?) sitting near-full on the table, several paper towels cemented to the counter top, aided by an ice cream scoop full of melted ice cream, miscellaneous sticky spots on the counter top, the sink filled with unrinsed dishes (apples, peanut butter, cereal, there was enough food in there to feed a small country, all swimming lazily around in murky puddles of ick). Dog hair forming tumbleweeds of sorts and rolling down the hallway with the breeze created by a person walking by. My lovely, velvety-soft blankets for the family room (I envisioned the family snuggling under these while watching a movie some Friday night) wadded up on the floor, full of dog hair after being slept on by thankful dogs (what luxury!). Each of my toilets has a pink ring in it, albeit of varying shades (depending on the level of bacteria growing in there? I don't know, I'm no chemist - but my husband is!). There is a wad of hair on or near the top step that's been there for over a week now - it just changes locations depending on who's foot it's been stuck to. I spilled nail polish remover on my bathroom counter and when I wiped it up, a layer of grime attached itself to the towel I was using (how can you not even SEE the dirt until you add water?). I dropped off some conditioner for the kids in their bathroom and, well, I've attached a photo, because while it's not the worst it's ever been, this is what their bathroom looks like MOST of the time! What you can't see in the photo is the underwear turned inside out, still tucked into the jeans, the wrappers from various feminine products strewn about, the odd toothbrush dropped on the floor (once I even found Hayley's headgear on the floor!), and the sprinkles and dustings of various girly makeup products creating a fine mist upon the countertop.

Now, I ask you, what is the solution to this problem? I've begged, cajoled, pleaded, threatened, asked nicely, whined, thrown a fit, ignored, taken away priveleges, demanded and still can't seem to get this "you live in this house, you need to contribute to it's cleanliness" message across. We have chore charts, lists, family meetings. A couple of weeks ago, I decided not to say anything at all, not to mention the mess, nothing. Two weeks went by and the clothes on the bathroom floor grew to dizzying heights. It was like mountain climbing to get to the shower (take some extra water, a flashlight and call me when you arrive safely!). After there was no visible linoeleum left, and one had to literally high-step it across the mounds to reach the toilet, I did hear a few comments such as "wow, there are a lot of clothes on our bathroom floor" and "where are my jeans?" Oh, I was good at this, let me tell you. But I broke. I could only take it so long (and I'm pretty sure one of the children might have been missing for a time). I demanded that they sort the clothes out and bring them into the laundry. There were so many clothes, the hallway had to be utilized to sort them and it took nearly five days to rid the hallway of clothes (keep in mind I have SIX large laundry baskets in the laundry room to hold the various loads - whites, jeans, towels, darks, colors, sheets).

The fact that we could even GO that many days and not need those clothes is testimony to the "too much" syndrome. Perhaps we should pare down to five pairs of underwear each? That might solve the laundry problem, but what about the rest of the house? Popular women's magazines say "dust the baseboards" seasonally. HUH? I have NEVER dusted a baseboard. It's all I can do to dust my shelves in the family room and I'm not ashamed to say I only do that about twice a year. Sure, I Windex the sliding glass door when the dog slobber has rendered it opaque, but there are only so many hours in the day. I'm happy if the kitchen table is wiped off, the chairs are all pushed in and if someone is standing in the doorway, they can only see the "clean" parts of the house. A few vacuum marks on the carpet and I feel like I'm in a showroom home. And if you can walk in my house and smell Pine-Sol instead of wet dog, then it's a red-letter day.

No wonder I'm eating chocolate chips and blogging at two in the afternoon. Happy Anti-Mother's Day!