Things like peeing on the lid but leaving it there for mom, or not taking your dirty laundry into the laundry room like your told. These are the questions that riddle me some days. How does a kid sit AT the table, but wind up with half of their food UNDER the table? It defies logic! Or chores.....oh, there's a good one. Why can you not do your chores until you are specifically instructed, under no uncertain terms, that you are nearing the threshold of absolute fury from the maternal unit?
Sigh.....
I wish somewhere there were answers to these questions.
As I type, I'm a sweaty mess. My face is so shiny I'm certain that it could be used as a mirror...or perhaps to fry eggs. I'm exhausted, my back is sore and I have a headache.
Why? Good question!
Silly me decided to make good on a threat/promise I made to 10 (my 10 year old daughter) as the beginning of school was approaching. One night as I attempted to tuck her in, climbing over piles of clean laundry, I told her how disgusting her room was. I advised her to clean it, or else I would clean it when she went back to school and she may not like the result.
The next day.....she cleaned. Sort of. Actually, she just piled everything up all the way around her room until it appeared that she had no baseboards. Then she sort of shoved some stuff under her bed, and between the bed and the wall, and then kicked a few things into the closet.
So, today, I had a near death experience as I attempted to resolve this problem once and for all!
I figure, no wait...I HOPE that I am not the only one who experiences this. I have a few super anal OCD friends who are going to cringe as they read the following depiction of my day, but this has to be shared. We, as moms of young hoarders, need to lean on one another as we attempt to navigate this tretcherous journey.
There has certainly been NO NAPPING for all the poor little dust bunnies and old stuffed animals in the closet. They have not had any peace and darkness in quite some time, because the doors simply would not close because of the avalanche that she called 'order.' :)
As I delved into the depths of this scary kingdom, I found some pretty alarming things.
I thought it was bad enough when I found a sandwich bag of easter candy. Wow, that was HOW many months ago?
Yep, thought that was shameful until I found the bag of CHRISTMAS candy behind that! OMG. Seriously?
Bags of crumpled papers? Check!
Old socks and underwear that don't fit anymore thrown in the floor? Check!
FOUR Build a Bear boxes? Check!
THREE little paper cars from Cheeburger Cheeburger? Check!
Last year's school notebooks, random assignments and a coloring book with no uncolored pages? CHECK, CHECK, CHECK!
Next I dove into the miscellaneous items all over the floor that formed their own sort of 'carpet.' I found used tissues behind the bed. I found a sandwich bag with wadded up tissue paper in it. I found a small shopping bag with tiny pebbles in it. I found a bowl with acorns in it. I unearthed enough small beads to make necklaces for her entire class.
At this point, I had muttered to myself more than once, "My daughter is DISGUSTING!" I was nearing the point of mental breakdown, and just could not rationalize HOW this had happened. I found empty bags, tiny scraps of fabric, tiny scraps of paper...tiny scraps of fabric stuck to tiny scraps of tiny paper. I found shopping bags with nothing but a receipt in them, folded up tidily in her closet. Why? Why, I beg of you? Why do we keep the box something came in, and then shove it under the bed? What purpose could this possibly serve? And the tiny scraps of fabric. Not even large enough for a tiny mouse outfit...WHY? WHYYYYYYYY??????
I wanted to just run away from home. I carried two full trashbags of trash, a large box of trash, three small boxes of trash....one and a half trash bags full of barbies, a trash bag full of baby dolls and stuffed animals (some naked, some ragged, some I'm not even sure where they came from...perhaps they are multiplying in there, I'm not sure)
After approximately one hundred trips up and down the steps and a good cardio workout, I pulled out the ole vacuum cleaner. I allowed myself to drift far, far away inside of my mind as I vacuumed. Suddenly I was surrounded by the sound of winning slot machines. I could just hear the change crash into that basin, CHING,CHING, CHING, CHING, CHIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! Suddenly, though, my Calgon moment was over. I realized that those sounds were not the sound of (in the words of Charlie Sheen) 'Winning'...Rather it was the sound of my vacuum begging for mercy as it tried to grind tiny beads, random pieces of yarn and a few quarters into a fine powder. I tilted the beast to one side and watched as it puked out a wad of carpet fuzz and several rejected pieces of shrapnel.
When I was finally done, I looked around and marveled at my accomplishment. I filled one full extra large super duper rolling trash receptacle...but I was done!
I finished with just enough time to eat a small snack, wipe some of the greasy sheen from my face and go to school and pickup my cute little hoarder. I told her nothing about my day as we got home. I let it be a surprise. I heard the gasp from downstairs when she entered her room to remove the germ infested school clothes she was wearing.
My high was quickly hampered by the buzz-kill that flowed from 6's mouth. This would be my son, 6, the artist formerly known as 5. He just had a birthday. Stick with me here, would ya?
I heard 6 pouting from the bathroom upstairs. and was flabbergasted. It's a common-known fact in our house that 10's room is, at any given time, very similar to that of a war-zone. 6...well his isn't usually too terrible. I mean, I can always make out the fact that he has carpet, and most of the time his drawers close on his dresser. Oh, and the closet doors are always able to shut.
He promptly reported from the bathroom, tears in his eyes, "Mom likes you better than me! She cleaned your room and not mine!"
Seriously? I had just come back from the jaws of death, felt the claws of Satan's grip on the back of my neck....and he thinks it was out of FAVORITISM?
OMG. I was quick to correct him, explaining that I nearly met my maker cleaning 10's room, and simply had no time left in the day to move on to his.
What does this mean, you ask? It means that tomorrow...Yep, you guessed it. I'm cleaning HIS room!
Sigh. I thought everyone said when you got all your kids into school, you had so much time for other things like shopping, pedicures and soaking in the tub all day. Clearly I am doing something wrong? Do these people have maids or something? Are their kids really robots?
THIS IS WHAT I WAS PROMISED:
THIS IS WHAT I RECEIVED:
Now, I'm gonna sit in front of the television until I see one of those commercials with an attorney with a patch on his eye promising to help me because I have been wronged. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment