29 And Still Rebelling

There are certain things that I have to be in the mood for. To keep it G rated, I'll start with the sweet versus salty issue. When there's a hankering for a bowl of ice cream, there's no way that a rice cake or a bag of microwave popcorn could substitute. I am that way about everything from movies I watch to deciding that I want to go for a walk and having to do it NOW. There is a mood for everything. Including cleaning. Unfortunately.

I grew up in a home where everything was not just neat, but spotless and clutter-free. Every Thursday after school, I was required to clean my room - including dusting, vacuuming and clearing underneath the bed and in the closet. Then I had to do my share of the bathroom, which was one of a three part rotation. One person would clean the sinks/countertops and mirror, another would sweep the floor and clean the toilet, and the third person was responsible for scrubbing the bathtub. (There were four kids in our family. I don't know where Joel was on cleaning day.) When we claimed to be done, Mom would come and inspect our work and either release us to our afternoon or condemn us to completing the task to her standards, which would take all night if you threw a fit about it. And, yes, I often did. This regimen began when I was eight and concluded when I got married and moved out.

The minute I was on my own, well, plus Andrew, I shook off that routine and enjoyed the freedom of being able to clean whenever I wanted and only if I wanted to. That could be on an as needed, or an emergency basis. It took me about 5 years to realize that when my mother, (who I will refrain from calling a neat-freak), is not looking over my shoulder and demanding perfection, I am a very lazy person. I am still in the process of trying to decide if I am going to accept that or try to change it. I'll keep you posted.

I was taught to revere cleanliness, but the actual practice of it eludes me. I was definitely raised better than to allow the dinner dishes that didn't fit in the dishwasher to sit in the sink until morning. I also know it is shameful to pile papers, mail and various odds and ends on my desk and then hastily toss them in a box when company is coming and leave it in the box for 5 months, but I have done it. But while the execution of cleaning is not my forte, the guilt I have when slacking about it is world class. I cannot stand to look at the heap of junk piled precariously on one end of my kitchen counter. Seeing clothes strewn all over my kids' bedroom floor makes me crazy. Toothpaste caps not screwed back on the tubes is enough to send me to the dark side.

Because of that, cleaning, for me, comes in wild and unexpected spurts. I have to be in the mood to start, but once I do-it's all going down. The problem here is that lately, the mood has not struck as often as it needs to. Partly because it's quite discouraging to clean one room and move on to another, only to come back twenty minutes later and find the first room back in it's previous disastrous state. Boys are more destructive than I had imagined before having some. But the bigger problem causing my lack of cleaning inspiration is my bedtime. I so relish the precious hours between putting the kids to bed and going to bed myself, that I have extended them to unhealthy numbers. The kids are in bed by 8:30, 8:00 if I'm lucky, and then I only have two hours of no one asking me for anything at all. No one bickering or squealing at a dog's pitch. No one making more mess for me to clean up. It is recuperation time.

I really should go to bed by 10:30 to get a solid eight hours, but I can't even remember the last time I went to bed that early. It's been pretty consistently midnight or later for quite a while. I always know that I will regret it in the morning, but I can't help myself. There's always one more blog to read, (or write), one more chapter in the book to read, one more stupid show to clear off of the DVR, and best of all; one more minute to enjoy being no one's servant... Come morning, I manage to do the necessary things, but never feel that surge of cleaning frenzy that is required in order to get to the nitty gritty. Consequently, I haven't dusted any part of my house for about three months. I seriously need to change my schedule.