As my children's teacher I called a sick day today. A sick day as in, "I am sick and tired of the mess in this house!" At Winter's end I always get a bit frantic about cleaning. As the sun begins to remember the North and the snow slinks away from its rays, its absence reveals the junk my yard kept hidden from me all season. I'm not sure why my driveway fancies juice boxes and broken plastic but it always has a nice stash come spring. Inside is even worse. Almost six months of cold, snow, and shut windows seems to make even inanimate objects scream to be set free.
I like a clean house...no, I love a clean house, just ask my family. I was challenged about 4 years or 5 years ago to give my kids a quiz about what they think of me and write down their answers honestly. it had simple questions like, "What's your mom's favourite thing to do?" and "What does your mom do when she's bored?" Out of about thirty questions, more than half were answered with one word, "clean". Except for the question that asked the how old they thought I was. I think they said "52" or somewhere in that ballpark.
I do clean a lot. The kids have learned to get out of my path when I become manic. My poor husband has even had to ask me at times to just sit and spend some time with him before he dies of old age. (If I looked 52 four or five years ago, you can just imagine how close to his golden years he looks...) The funny thing is, if you walked into my house you would never guess that. It seems to be an a constant state of disarray! School books, paper, and pencils cover the tables during the day. There are always preparations or remnants of meals in the kitchen. Little boots and shoes line the entrance asymmetrically. Dust blankets at least 3/4 of our living space at any time. To make matters worse, we live in a renovation. When we bought our house almost 8 years ago, we knew it would be a huge undertaking. It had a rough past and had been badly abused. We're still working through it's issues.
When we're having people over for dinner my compulsion kicks into overdrive! I scurry about the house looking for imperfections I'm sure they will judge me on. My internal dialogue shouts, "If they have to use the bathroom they might see the little glob of toothpaste the Buddy left in the sink!" or "If they drop their keys and the keys fall under the couch and they have to get on their hands and knees to find them they might see what's under the couch so I better make sure the kids didn't kick anything under there and I better vacuum the rug and wash the floor since their face with be close to those....." Sometimes I feel like Anne Shirley when she said, "I know I chatter on far too much...but if you only knew how many things I want to say and don't. Give me some credit!"
My insanity in not reserved for adult company either! I know we're homeschoolers and we're not supposed to know how to socialize (blah, blah, blah) but my children do have friends. In fact, during the summer months especially, I have a revolving front door. There is a constant influx of neighbourhood children here and I worry. I don't know why. I have never heard my children come home from visiting a friend and say, "Mom, there was a little spider web in the corner of Jack's ceiling, it was DISGUSTING!" Or "Their Legos weren't colour co-ordinated. I can't play there anymore." Or even, "Their house was of average cleanliness and order, it was quite pleasant!" But for some reason I have convinced myself that my kids' friends will have a full report concerning my housekeeping skills typed and duplicated for their parents.
When springtime approaches and I make spring cleaning a family affair my children groan (outwardly) and beg to be allowed to do their schoolwork. I tell them that cleaning can be fun and that housekeeping skills are just as essential as learning how to properly diagram sentences! They respectfully disagree. I tell them that Happy Mommy can be fun and keeping Mommy happy is just as essential as learning how to properly cheer Mommy up after having shattered her heart. They got right to work.
The little ones were doing a great job cleaning their rooms until Buddy #1 came upstairs an announced he found a much better thing to do.
"Mom, I know the perfect job for me to help you out!"
"Oh, what is that, Buddy?" I asked somewhat intrigued.
"It's called 'Staying Out of Your Way.'"
I almost fell for it.
I like a clean house...no, I love a clean house, just ask my family. I was challenged about 4 years or 5 years ago to give my kids a quiz about what they think of me and write down their answers honestly. it had simple questions like, "What's your mom's favourite thing to do?" and "What does your mom do when she's bored?" Out of about thirty questions, more than half were answered with one word, "clean". Except for the question that asked the how old they thought I was. I think they said "52" or somewhere in that ballpark.
I do clean a lot. The kids have learned to get out of my path when I become manic. My poor husband has even had to ask me at times to just sit and spend some time with him before he dies of old age. (If I looked 52 four or five years ago, you can just imagine how close to his golden years he looks...) The funny thing is, if you walked into my house you would never guess that. It seems to be an a constant state of disarray! School books, paper, and pencils cover the tables during the day. There are always preparations or remnants of meals in the kitchen. Little boots and shoes line the entrance asymmetrically. Dust blankets at least 3/4 of our living space at any time. To make matters worse, we live in a renovation. When we bought our house almost 8 years ago, we knew it would be a huge undertaking. It had a rough past and had been badly abused. We're still working through it's issues.
When we're having people over for dinner my compulsion kicks into overdrive! I scurry about the house looking for imperfections I'm sure they will judge me on. My internal dialogue shouts, "If they have to use the bathroom they might see the little glob of toothpaste the Buddy left in the sink!" or "If they drop their keys and the keys fall under the couch and they have to get on their hands and knees to find them they might see what's under the couch so I better make sure the kids didn't kick anything under there and I better vacuum the rug and wash the floor since their face with be close to those....." Sometimes I feel like Anne Shirley when she said, "I know I chatter on far too much...but if you only knew how many things I want to say and don't. Give me some credit!"
My insanity in not reserved for adult company either! I know we're homeschoolers and we're not supposed to know how to socialize (blah, blah, blah) but my children do have friends. In fact, during the summer months especially, I have a revolving front door. There is a constant influx of neighbourhood children here and I worry. I don't know why. I have never heard my children come home from visiting a friend and say, "Mom, there was a little spider web in the corner of Jack's ceiling, it was DISGUSTING!" Or "Their Legos weren't colour co-ordinated. I can't play there anymore." Or even, "Their house was of average cleanliness and order, it was quite pleasant!" But for some reason I have convinced myself that my kids' friends will have a full report concerning my housekeeping skills typed and duplicated for their parents.
When springtime approaches and I make spring cleaning a family affair my children groan (outwardly) and beg to be allowed to do their schoolwork. I tell them that cleaning can be fun and that housekeeping skills are just as essential as learning how to properly diagram sentences! They respectfully disagree. I tell them that Happy Mommy can be fun and keeping Mommy happy is just as essential as learning how to properly cheer Mommy up after having shattered her heart. They got right to work.
The little ones were doing a great job cleaning their rooms until Buddy #1 came upstairs an announced he found a much better thing to do.
"Mom, I know the perfect job for me to help you out!"
"Oh, what is that, Buddy?" I asked somewhat intrigued.
"It's called 'Staying Out of Your Way.'"
I almost fell for it.
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