Desperate Measures
The Child's computer has been acting up and it's stressing her out because she needs it for homework. The Spouse hasn't gotten around to looking at it, usually because he's tired when he gets home plus he's busy editing the movie and The Child doesn't usually think to complain about it until a thoroughly inappropriate time; like after she's been sent to bed.
The other night The Spouse decided he'd try and help her out. Only her room was such a sty that he couldn't move things to see what was going on. So he left, telling her that if she cleaned her room he'd fix the computer.
I don't know what it is about kids and squalor but dang it. It truly is heinous. And it's not for want of trying to keep it under control. Stuff gets flung out of her room all the time. Good lord, there's a rummage sale the first weekend of November and she's packed up 4 wine boxes full of stuff to sell. Plus every once in a while I'll go in there and fling garbage and recycling and too- small clothes. But no matter what anyone does, I swear, that crap breeds in the night.
Add to that the fact that The Child never met a flat surface she didn't like. Dirty laundry? That's what the floor is for. It's also a swell place to store CDs, books, magazines, posters and oh, yeah, assignments that should have been turned in. What's more, she hordes sugar products in her room. I know, because I'm always finding stashes of it. I don't even know where she gets this stuff.
Of course, I understand what it is to be overwhelmed. She creates this mess but then when told to clean her room, has no idea where to start. (Hint: pick up all the dirty laundry and you're half way there). And when she's in her room dancing to HSMII or writing acceptance letters to Hogwarts for her friends, she just ignores it: dances on top of it, adds a layer of letters to the madness.
I went in there yesterday and despaired. Then I came up with a Brilliant Idea. I would clear all the junk out into the living room; make a giant pile so that maybe, in the cool green calm of the tidy and dusted living room she'd actually see it. Sure, this plan had the potential to backfire. Maybe, once seen, there'd be a total freak out. But maybe, just maybe....
It was nasty work. 2 pails of garbage. Not to mention the fact that somewhere along the way she managed to spill cocoa on a bunch of stuff. Cocoa stained clothes (including formerly clean laundry that she had dumped out of the basket onto the floor rather than putting away because she apparently needed the basket for a project). Cocoa stained pillows. A CD liner for HMSII that had been welded to the floor by smelly, sticky cocoa. (Hi. I catch her with anything other than water in her room ever again and she moves into the garage). I flung the garbage, removed the candy, threw the cocoa stuff in the laundry and moved everything, including all the dirty laundry, into the living room.
Then The Dog threw up.
I don't think one was related to the other.
FYI: The swatches of Mayfair blue? That would be her school sweater. The one she couldn't find yesterday morning. Actually, there were three of them. Oh, and Buck, can you identify a particular species of stuffed animal in there?
"I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!" she chanted upon returning home.
"And why do you love me, lass"? (She hadn't noticed the living room, just her spotless bedroom).
"Because you cleaned my room! Thank you, Mommy! Thank you!
Thank you!"
"Ah. But I didn't clean your room". This was met with one of those tilted-head-with-a-curious-expression-like-a-puppy things.
"I just moved everything out of your room. You still have to deal with it".
"Oh".
But you know what? She was still happy. And even though I had to take a cattle prod to her to sort the mess, she did it before The Spouse returned home. Plus she laid out her clothes for today.
And the dirty laundry crack I made earlier? Yeah. Easily half of it.
The other night The Spouse decided he'd try and help her out. Only her room was such a sty that he couldn't move things to see what was going on. So he left, telling her that if she cleaned her room he'd fix the computer.
I don't know what it is about kids and squalor but dang it. It truly is heinous. And it's not for want of trying to keep it under control. Stuff gets flung out of her room all the time. Good lord, there's a rummage sale the first weekend of November and she's packed up 4 wine boxes full of stuff to sell. Plus every once in a while I'll go in there and fling garbage and recycling and too- small clothes. But no matter what anyone does, I swear, that crap breeds in the night.
Add to that the fact that The Child never met a flat surface she didn't like. Dirty laundry? That's what the floor is for. It's also a swell place to store CDs, books, magazines, posters and oh, yeah, assignments that should have been turned in. What's more, she hordes sugar products in her room. I know, because I'm always finding stashes of it. I don't even know where she gets this stuff.
Of course, I understand what it is to be overwhelmed. She creates this mess but then when told to clean her room, has no idea where to start. (Hint: pick up all the dirty laundry and you're half way there). And when she's in her room dancing to HSMII or writing acceptance letters to Hogwarts for her friends, she just ignores it: dances on top of it, adds a layer of letters to the madness.
I went in there yesterday and despaired. Then I came up with a Brilliant Idea. I would clear all the junk out into the living room; make a giant pile so that maybe, in the cool green calm of the tidy and dusted living room she'd actually see it. Sure, this plan had the potential to backfire. Maybe, once seen, there'd be a total freak out. But maybe, just maybe....
It was nasty work. 2 pails of garbage. Not to mention the fact that somewhere along the way she managed to spill cocoa on a bunch of stuff. Cocoa stained clothes (including formerly clean laundry that she had dumped out of the basket onto the floor rather than putting away because she apparently needed the basket for a project). Cocoa stained pillows. A CD liner for HMSII that had been welded to the floor by smelly, sticky cocoa. (Hi. I catch her with anything other than water in her room ever again and she moves into the garage). I flung the garbage, removed the candy, threw the cocoa stuff in the laundry and moved everything, including all the dirty laundry, into the living room.
Then The Dog threw up.
I don't think one was related to the other.
FYI: The swatches of Mayfair blue? That would be her school sweater. The one she couldn't find yesterday morning. Actually, there were three of them. Oh, and Buck, can you identify a particular species of stuffed animal in there?
Moving on. I made her bed, cleaned up all the stickiness with yummy smelling cleaning agents (mmmm...cucumber), swept, organized her books and waited to see her reaction.
"I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!" she chanted upon returning home.
"And why do you love me, lass"? (She hadn't noticed the living room, just her spotless bedroom).
"Because you cleaned my room! Thank you, Mommy! Thank you!
Thank you!"
"Ah. But I didn't clean your room". This was met with one of those tilted-head-with-a-curious-expression-like-a-puppy things.
"I just moved everything out of your room. You still have to deal with it".
"Oh".
But you know what? She was still happy. And even though I had to take a cattle prod to her to sort the mess, she did it before The Spouse returned home. Plus she laid out her clothes for today.
And the dirty laundry crack I made earlier? Yeah. Easily half of it.
Labels: cleaning things, The Child
cobbled together by Moi at 12:57 PM
77 Comments:
It's hard to tell if you did some brilliant child management or got slightly screwed. Who'll do that big ol' basket of laundry?
I'd like to know before I attempt that with my own Unbelievable-Mess-Maker who is not only astonishingly gifted at disorder but has a full arsenal of twisted reasoning to defend himself.
You have no idea how much more wonderful these stories and pictures are for me now that I've actually been there and can totally see it all in my mind.
When I was her age, I kept neglecting to take out the garbage. Then, one day I came home from school to find all the garbage dumped in the middle of my bed.
Point taken.
Booda, oh, trust. She's going to do it. Every bit of it. Good luck with UMM.
JP, sure I do. I feel the same way when I see stuff from Buck, Iwanski, Mouse and Hat. And you wouldn't believe your room. It's even cleaner than when you were here!
Oh, Buck. The Hat has a similar story with which I trust she'll regale us. That is sooo my back up plan should The Child have failed to fully grasp the message this time around.
Sheer genius. If only my mom had tried that when I was a kid...
I'll tell you a secret, Kimberly Anne...I'm feeling more than a little smug at the success of this particular experiment. I'll take it where I can get it.
the beauty of this whole story is that some 20 - 30 years from now you will be checking in on the Child's Blog and get to read about how her children are driving her crazy with the same such stuff.... that will be a glorious day!
I think I saw an armadillo in the pile. Is that it?
Oh, yes, Twisi, it will be a very glorious day!
Ding! Ding! Ding! You win the prize, Buck. It even has a zipper in the belly and a baby armadillo that fits inside. Tres adorable, no?.
lorraine, if you saw my childhood bedroom you would praise the child endlessly for her sense of order and general tidinesss. seriously, i'm surprised that i was the only thing alive in there. my mom was embarassed to let housekeepers go in there. damn.
I dunno, Mon. I actually took a photo of her room before I douched it out only the camera was on the video function and I didn't realize it. That pile there looks so much better than her room did. And I was seriously afraid I'd find critters what with all the candy she had stashed. ANTS!!!!!!
You're a brave, brave Mum! That really could have backfired very easily, but it sounds as though it went well in the end.
Of course, you could always follow Mrs Ritchie's policy and say to your kids that if they don't clean up their room, you're going to go in there, pick up ANYTHING that isn't where it should be, put it in a bag and donate it to charity shops.
Then again, they'd probably have trouble convincing their discerning clientele that cocoa is the new black...
Actually, D, I DID do something like that...I told her that everything had to be dealt with by the time Papa got home and anything that wasn't was going to charity. I wasn't so much worried about unloading the artistically stained cocoa art; I was just hoping she'd put away all her uniform bits so I wouldn't have to buy more!
hum, i was a neat freak even in my teen years....records numbered, clothes hung and put away. laundry in the basket...of course i was miserably unhappy but in an organized way.....you know, feel bad, cry, then no verbalization of feelings, sneak out and do bad things then blame parents.
Well, of course you blamed your parents, Ro. That's article II of the Teenager Constitution.
Again, hoping this will be out of her system by the time she comes to stay with us. Oh crap, you're going to tell me to set a good example, aren't you?
Wow. That fade thing is cool.
Actually, Nicole, she tends to be tidier in the homes of others. And even willingly helpful in a "let me wash the dishes" sort of way.
Not that we can expect it to last the entire length of her stay with you but, you know, should be good for a few weeks.
You went to The Hat's blog, didn't you? She does the fadey thing. Oh, and she did it on my business site, too. Maybe it is that to which you refer?
I was always a fan of keeping food in my room. Did I eat said food? No. It was there as a security in case the end of the world happened as I slept. Hi! I was raised by crazy Mormons! Anyhoo, yes - my mother also put everything in my bed (including the bag of rotten that had at one time been grapes). Eeek!
As noted when first you shared that tale, Hat, it will be the back-up/reinforce the message plan should such an eventuality arise.
Did I spell that right?
Yes, that is a very adorable armadillo. However, to be authentic, the armadillo should have FOUR babies inside because they always give birth to identical quadruplets.
At least that's what I've heard.
Stupid dumb unauthentic souvenir from daddy's dumb old business trip to Texas years ago.
4 babies.
pft.
Oh wait. Only the nine-banded armadillo does the quadruplet thing.
This one might be okay.
I will have The Child count the bands and report back to you.
This is where I leave random comments for filler.
Because it is ON!
lalalalalalalalalala
(clears throat)
My Bonnie lies over the ocean
My Bonnie lies over the sea
My Bonnie lies over the ocean
Oh bring back my Bonnie (THWAK!)
Oh, puleeze, Hat. Is that the best you can do? Bring it, sister.
I feel your pain! Miss Thing is borderline OCD neat, The Hurricane is the second coming of Oscar Madison.. good thing that boy was born so damn cute.
you know now that I think about it, maybe you are hurting her inner child by making her have a clean room...you think?
a clean room is a sign of a somethingorother.
100 bottles of beer on the wall, 100 bottles of beer, if one of those bottles should happen to fall there'd be 99 bottles of beer on the wall.
99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer, if one of those bottles should happen to fall there'd be 98 bottles of beer on the wall.....everybody now...98 bottles
I was a mix of the two growing up, me-self, Doralong. It's not that I don't understand mess or procrastination, I just don't get how she can let it get as bad as she does without needing to plop on her training tiara and pink rubber gloves and do something about it. Ya know?
Her inner child needs a time out, Ro.
...of beer on the wall, 98 bottles of beer, we take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of...
you know, this song goes a lot faster if JP is drinking.
I mean, commenting.
Hey, I just realized that Rosie's version of the beer song and mine are different.
Hers fall and mine get drunk.
There is a tavern in the town (in the town) and there my true love sits him down (sits him dow-wow-on) and makes himself as merry as can be and never never thinks of me (thinks of me).
Meaning that mine get drunk up by others. Bottles, themselves, cannot get drunk.
That would just be silly, not to mention quite messy.
I have posted the 36th comment.
For the 37th comment, I want to add that the child is in good company. My room was exactly like that when I was her age.
Look at me now.
OK, well, don't. I'm a bad example.
Thank you for that, Iwanski.
And she could do worse than to wind up a wonderful photographer/writer, happily married and ensconced in a Chicago high rise.
Oh, and thanks for playing but this is nothing. You should see what's going on over at the Hat's.
She's the one wot started it.
lorraine, you are shit-faced...no more cheetos and beer or whatever it is you are drinking.
Rosie, I am NOT! The cheetoes and cocktails are over at Hat's. Here I am sober as a judge and making polite conversation with friends.
You, on the other hand, should not be transblograting while drinking.
"Transblogating"! I made a new word!
umm, i am counting beer bottles and i am at 62 on YOUR wall....BTW, in checking my sources, my version is the more mature version....your version is from a later decade when there was less....ahh, counting abilities and more drinking abilities. as for transblogating, I only dress like that to blog when Steve is gone.
where exactly is jp?
i looked on both sides of the wall and no jp.....do you think he is lost or hurt?
Well, yes, Ro, I'm sure your version is very mature (makes air quotes) and that there is a chamber version of it somewhere.
Probably in Monica's record collection, if I know her.
Oh, and you look very fetching, btw. You take after your hatty daughter.
Or the other way around. Maybe I have had too much beer.
JP? JP?
Dang it, where did that girl get to?
I just wanted to say..(dodges falling beer bottle)..that I think your approach..(stumbles over stuffed armadillo)..to enlightening The child to her..(WHAT did I just stick my hand in??...Nevermind..I don't wanna know)..less than sterling room cleaning habits was Brilliant!!
..where did all these drunken broads come from?
i bet he is with that slut .....what's her name?
no, no I didn't mean you lorraine....the other one...no, no that came out badly...that other person....crap
what do you see when you squint? I see green things...and they move
Sorry about the whatever that is all over your hand, Sling.
And the beer bottles. Here. Let me get you a poultice.
Ro: you mean Christina, I think.
And that was NOT nice. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a slut.
That's the truth.
Although, interesting fact, the word "slut" originally referred to a woman who was a lousy housekeeper and not one of loose virtue.
And since I am neither a lousy housekeeper nor a woman of loose virtue, the word is not appropriate.
Have some more Cheetoes.
HAH! Is that really the root of the word Slut? Oh! We should totally find a way to sneak that into your organizing business motto. Hmmmm...
I didn't mean slut....I wanted to use other words....like loverly young woman, or great friend, or that guy from the bar. I would never call you a slut or poor housekeeper specially after cleaning the daughters room and all.....i am sick to my stomach from eating cheese puffs....really and I actually had a beer with my boiled pasta. I'm going to lay down on the couch and count spider webs on the ceiling and wait for steve to get home....sorry, i used an inappropriate word. You run a really clean place here and I didn't mean to dirty it up...really.I'll sweep up the broken beer bottles too.
No offense taken, Rosie. In fact, I think you should just put down that broom and come over here and let me give you a pedicure. 'Cause you rock, girlfriend.
Good gravy! I have to be away from teh Intarweb today, and all of a sudden there's The Child's room-scrunge in the living room and beer bottles on the walls and name-calling and retractions of same and pedicures and Lorraine making up a cool new word and everything!
Jinkies, I wonder what will happen when I'm Intarweb-away tomorrow???
Missed all the fun again, didn't I? Dang. I so wanted to see Rosie on her little, umm, what do you call it? Boy, she really needs to get out more! I guess this is what we do in Sandpoint when the hubby is away. I won't tell.
'Raine, great party as usual, but, you might want to pick up the beer bottles and broken pieces in the front yard. And the laundry basket got tipped over and there are armadillos everywhere. Some party!
You're going to keep this going, right? You HAVE to get to a hundred!
I can't quite express the weirdness of being at work, on my lunch break, reading about various alcohol-induced lunacies taking place across the Atlantic.
Weird... but highly entertaining, so keep it goin!
Syd, what in the world are you doing that is keeping you away from the 'webs? That is just crazy talk.
Amy, you obviously were spending your time tending to the needs of your children and generally practising discipline and modeling good behavior while we started running amok.
Thank goodness it's recycling pickup today...that Rosie...
Dariush, Please tell me you were over at the Hat's too because that is where all this madness started. This ain't nothing.
And yes, while 100 would be charming, I suspect the momentum has wanned with the turning of the planet. Although I'm sure tickled that we gave you some fun.
Plus, it is important to promote an alternative version of the Ugly American scenario. It's our patriotic duty.
God bless the Queen.
We mean it, man.
Geez, who am I kidding? I'm obviously capable of putting myself over the 100 mark.
But I won't. That would be wrong.
Plus I have all these beer bottles and armadillos to clean up.
Enjoy your tea.
75 comments! where have I been? yowza. The first half of your post painted the exact picture of The Girl's room. I must try this, I have been tempted to do it for a while.
Anne, yesterday was quite the gigglefest. And I highly recommend the strategy. Not only is The Child's room clean, she's keeping it that way.
Fingers, they are crossed.
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