Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Dollhouses, Horseshoes, and Featherdusters, Oh My!


I'm writing this under duress, in a hurry, while hiding, in the middle of a sneezing fit (ever tried to hide while you're sneezing?).
  
I am being pelted with incessant hints and questions about lunch -- what's for lunch?  when's lunch?  is it almost lunch?  are you getting hungry for lunch?

What's with the sudden undue interest in lunch?  It represents a respite from the morning.  It will mean we have come to a common understanding of things.  It will mean -- the children have finished cleaning their rooms.  

It all started when I went into my son's room yesterday and had to step over last week's church outfit to reach the clock.  That was it.  No more gentle hints.  No more suggestions.  No more "personal space" or individualism.  So I declared today the "cleaning of the rooms day." We usually have a very thorough, very formal "cleaning of the rooms day" somewhere right before the start of the school year.  Floor bound dress clothing moved it up a few days.

The kids wanted to do it themselves.  Great.  It's not like my own room couldn't use a dusting and fluffing.  We all went to our respective rooms -- me to my room, my son to his room, my daughter, who is not old enough to have enough domain over her bedroom to have it messy, was charged with cleaning up the common play/hobby room upstairs.  Most of the tiny things on the floor belong to her dollhouse anyway.

Ten minutes into the whole operation came a terrible crash, heard throughout the house.  Nothing has been the same since.  It seems my daughter thought she'd start with her brother's things and knocked over a plant stand, sending plants and dirt all over the room.  Medium-sized job now turned into huge job with angry undertones.  Assumptions were made, indictments issued, and warnings distributed.  


We're all back to our own rooms now -- but anger is simmering, feelings are hurting, and the clock is ticking.  I suspect stomachs are rumbling -- maybe there is something to this lunch thing, but . . . 

My son keeps interrupting me to tell me he's finished.  Must I really keep stopping to point out that clothes hangers don't really belong on the floor?  Must I really define what I mean by "dust all the flat surfaces?"  Do I really need to specifically point out the horseshoe in the middle of the floor?  

I now have the opposite problem with my daughter.  She won't come and ask me anything.  She's been spoken to harshly and will now use her (rather questionable) judgment rather than come ask me for any guidance.  She knows I am much more apt to throw it out than find a place for the 900th dollhouse chair found on the floor.  Heaven knows what kind of decisions are being made in there.


But I just realized how dusty my own bedroom is and am as focused as a laser.  Dollhouse chairs be damned -- let the six year old throw you in with the Legos never to be found again -- have you seen how dusty my nightstand is?!??!!!!  If only I could string together more than 3 consecutive minutes of cleaning.

 
Well, time's up.  I've been located here at the computer . . . it seems my son once again thinks he's finished.  Wanna bet that horseshoe is still in the middle of his floor?  (Do you realize we don't even own a horse?)  And my daughter may have dug a tunnel to China by now . . . and if she thinks she's going anywhere before she finishes cleaning that room . . .
 
Wish us luck, we'll need it!

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

Don't you wish kids used their hands as much as they do their mouths :)

Patti said...

came home one afternoon to a wonderful rain storm. As the storm began to lift-the sun came out-and I went rainbow hunting. Imagine my delight when I turned the corner and discovered one stretched across the driveway and ending right in our little quaint log cabin-imagine my horror when I realized it ended in my teen age daughter's room.... needless to say-telling her that there is a pot of gold somewhere in her room has NOT motivated her to clean her room...YET

kid's rooms have doors for a reason

Renee' said...

Patti -- ROTFLOL! "Imagine my horror . . ." Well, ya best get digging!

Renee' said...

Anon #1 -- Yes! If I had something picked up for every word my son brought to me today, this entire house would be immaculate.

Bobo Bun said...

Cringed when I read as saw me reflected back always yelling I'll get a bin bag and take all your toys to the charity shop if you don't clear up soon like a mad harridan. This summer I've given up and just tiptoe around it knowing it will be me clearing it up - not them. I'd rather just do it the once not lots so leave it for seven weeks I say.

Lisa x

Renee' said...

Lisa -- My kids are packing their bags and heading for your place . . . wait until they hear you have chickens!

Di in Indiana said...

So, I have to know....was the horseshoe still in the middle of the floor?

Renee' said...

LOL, Di! Didn't mean to create a cliff-hanger here. YES. Yes, it was.

Di in Indiana said...

Thanks!!

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