I am shamelessly using you all as I access my inner (not too far buried) psycho today.
Today my psycho energy will be directed towards untrashing my piggery. I am using you all for the purposes of accountability. I hope you don't mind.
This is how this morning went. I needed my iPod charger. I searched in the basket where we gather the huge tangle of cords and chargers we tenderly collect and house despite having no idea what they are for. Not there.
Call Aaron. "Hi how are you, so listen I need my iPod charger and I'm in a hurry, any ideas?"
"You tried the basket?"
"Yes"
"And the key basket?"
"Yup"
"That porcelain dish?"
"Yup"
"Under the couch?"
Wait let me see...
"AAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!! You will never believe what is under this couch"
"Pretty epic huh? Any luck?"
"Nope, but hey, look a whole pack of highlighters! Cool."
How about under the couch cushions (in the couch slipcover)
"Ugh..ok I'm going in"
"Oh! There are my tweezers, and that scout toggle we were missing, decorative scissors, scripture marker, plastic turtle, matchbox car, a hairbrush..."
"Any luck on the charger?"
"Well no, but at least I have found my tweezers"
"Did you try the drawers of that little hexagonal table?"
"yes, I found about a years worth of kid artwork in there but no charger"
"Could that be in that bag you stuffed on the basement landing when we were getting guests?"
"Already checked and no, but I totally need to go through that bag today..."
*Companiable silence as I search*
"Our kids are pigs"
" I know"
*hysteria rising in my voice* "But really! They are! I can't take it anymore! Their rooms are messy again! And you should see how they leave the bathroom! And they are constantly trashing the living room and I can't even think about the playroom...It makes me want to cry..."
* Aaron accesses his most soothing talkherdown voice*, "I know. Don't worry we will hold the threat of not going to the pool over them all Summer. That should work."
"They are PIGS I say"
Shortly thereafter I left for the gym. Ipod in the dangerously low charged "red" level. Scary stuff.
Even more scary? The contents of all the unearthed messes all over my living room.
Gym gives me chance for introspection and sweat is like a truth serum for me. Now that I am home, I have to face the bleak, stark truth.
Which is this:
I always seem to launch into the "our kids are pigs" tirade when I am looking for something I have lost due to my own messiness. It's quite uncanny. Kids are such helpful scapegoats sometimes.
BUT! I will not hide behind the slobbery of my children anymore. I am coming clean today people, literally and figuratively. My kids are pigs, yes this is true. But so is their mom. (Although in my defense I do have a clean bedroom to show for our 20 plus year age difference AND I don't trash the bathroom so there. ) But the truth is that I have my areas of disorganization and they are scary, and I have their areas of disorganization and they are even more scary but since I am their mom, I really do have to help them out with that.
It has been too long since I got my own house in real order. It is my goal to have things in better order before Friday. I would like to start Summer feeling a bit ahead of the game. I don't want to start it off feeling all stressed and harried and embittered towards my lovely children because of the clutter. Because they truly are lovely. So this week you, m'peeps are my task-masters. I am tackling a room a day-keeping it real, it's a busy week after all. I will come and report. I will have photographic evidence of my progress.
If you wish to join me on this week-long endeavour, I will post a Mr. Linky a bit later. If you'd like, go ahead and link to your blog post of your progress so we can all go and judge you. If you don't wish to air your dirty laundry (or you have none), that is cool too.
On my agenda today: THE LIVING ROOM. The scary, scary living room.
I'm going in. (If I live, I will return later with a full report, I expect you to hold me to it).
'Til we meet again...
Coming Clean....
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6 comments:
Oh, Mama...you don't know how badly I need to join you on this endeavor. HOWEVER...deep cleaning my house this week isn't gonna work. I have committed myself to a goal - a very lofty one! - of participating in my first craft fair this year. First order of business - complete the current apron order I'm working on so I can START making stuff for the fair and Two - Find somebody who knows SOMETHING about how to organize for this specific craft fair!
In the meantime, my hubs has promised to allocate one hour each Saturday morning, before we teach piano lessons, to cleaning the house.
Luck to you, my friend!
my house needs it far more than yours, i'm sure, and i don't even have kids. but this week won't work for me either. school is kicking my butt. good luck to you though!
I do the same thing: I get mad at my husband for leaving his socks out when my side of the bed is the really messy one, etc. Anyhoo, I would like to get on board with this.
I have to say I feel your pain. My house is a complete disaster every day! I know very few people who can keep their house clean. I am just glad that I am not the only one that can't do it. I will try every day to clean a room! I actually cleaned the basement yesterday which was so scary!
Oh, I do hope you were productive today!!! I keep telling myself that I will do this too. Maybe this summer is THE summer. But our house is so tiny, and we still need to hold onto "stuff" in case the little kids still need it...or there is an error along the way and another kid makes it into the house. UGh. I don't even want to contemplate that or the extra, added mess it will bring. Man, now I'm down. LOL
Good luck to you! I know what you're going through-I have a messy streak a mile wide, so between me and the rest of the family I have to pick up three times a day just to make sure that the house doesn't cave in or become a toxic waste dump.
I don't think I can join you in a major overhaul. I still have a pretty good excuse in The Bean-I figure I can milk it and stay a little extra slobbish until she's sleeping through the night.
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