Why I love my kids:
When watching a Mr. Clean commercial about a woman and her spotless bathroom, my son commented, “That is not normal. I mean, that bathroom is waaay to clean.”
My soon to be fourteen year old daughter paid me this comment: “I’m glad you’re not like some mothers, you know, all wrapped up in having a clean house…”
It’s not that I don’t want a clean house, it’s that I refuse to pick up after other people. Since my kids were able to walk, I have demanded that they pick up after themselves. There are times when I don’t demand quite enough and things do take on that sty-like quality, but it all comes down to my own personal philosophy: I may not have plumbed the depths of the meaning of my life but rest assured, it has nothing to do with your dirty socks and underwear.
This philosophy also extends to my husband. I don’t pick up his crap either. Whenever the pile gets too high I just put it in a place where he will trip over it and potentially hurt himself. Sometimes, blood is shed when I make a point.
There was a time when I did keep a very clean house. I worked forty hours a week and spent all weekend in one kind of a cleaning endeavor or another and sometimes I would get help and sometimes I wouldn’t but I spent a lot of time resenting my family for taking away my free time.
I now have a much more enlightened approach and I don’t resent anyone.
My kids also know that the person that makes designs in the dust on the tv screen is the person that gets to dust the whole house…