Just the other day, my recently turned thirteen year-old asked, "Why do you make us clean our rooms? None of my friends parents make them clean their rooms - they are always messy when I goto to their houses." I was so taken back that my request to see that carpet actually existed on the floor of the bedroom my daughters share was out of the ordinary. Literally, I stood frozen while my brain processed the fact that I was actually going to have to explain WHY it is not acceptable to live like a slob.
“Well,” I said, stalling a little while my brain formulated an answer that my newly-crowned teenager might process in a productive fashion. This is my third and final child to hit the charming age of 13. Who was I kidding - there is no reasoning with a teenager. You’d think my brain would have evolved by this time…? Help me Darwin!
“Well,” I repeated, still recovering from the questioning of the OBVIOUS. “…Because it is my job to teach you that you need to pick up after yourself. It is not ok to wear clothes for a day, stink them up, throw them on the floor and proceed to walk all over them for a days and then pull a pair of jeans out of the filth that has been rumaniting on the floor for a week and wear it again. If you would at least throwing them in a pile it would show me you possess a motor skill."
“Besides,” I continued, “after a week, you forget what is clean and what has just been strew on the floor as you paired 15 different Hollister t-shirts with the same pair of jeans to produce the perfect outfit to impress your homeroom boyfriend. Then you can’t remember what is clean or dirty, and you put it all in the dirty laundry. You’ve got no respect for Mother Earth and her precious water – nor me and your dad who have to go to work to pay for that water to wash your clean clothes…Do you get it now?”
“Besides,” I continued, “after a week, you forget what is clean and what has just been strew on the floor as you paired 15 different Hollister t-shirts with the same pair of jeans to produce the perfect outfit to impress your homeroom boyfriend. Then you can’t remember what is clean or dirty, and you put it all in the dirty laundry. You’ve got no respect for Mother Earth and her precious water – nor me and your dad who have to go to work to pay for that water to wash your clean clothes…Do you get it now?”
The response from my less than captive audisnce? Nothing of the verbal persuasion, just a glare, a roll of the eyes, and a quick exit from the room on my part.
Cleaning the room has been an issue since the age of 10-ish, when children should really be able to pick up after themselves. Why is it a daily battle? I mean, it has been four years of entrenched warfare on this front. It is really the most frustrating part of parenting.
I’m not THAT strict – I do NOT make my kids make their bed before they leave for school. I work full time, they have until 5:00 p.m. to get that bed made…why is it so hard? A neatly made bed is an easy way to make a messy room look clean!
My daughters play the blame game because they share the room. Whatever. I know whose clothes belong to who, who was using the computer last, who’s dresser had shirts, papers, ponytails shoved behind it. Children, I am not BLIND. Have you not realized I have eyes in the back of my head?
Did I mention we have been entrenched in this warfare for years now? My teacher friend helped me create a Rubric grading scale for the cleanliness of the rooms. We used it for a nearly two years…until I deemed my children old enough and mature enough to stop using a grading scale. I was undoubtedly pre-mature in the cessation of the Rubric.
Why, Why, Why, Why, Why have I had to repeat myself, oh, let’s say, 800 times, "Yes, you can go to the mall, or a sleepover at Katie’s, or whatever...as long as your room is clean first. Why don’t they clean their rooms before they ask? Why do I have to go and check? They KNOW the answer!
To be fair, my oldest, does clean her room before asking to do something at least 15 percent of the time. So, perhaps that extra year of me pounding it into her thick skull, has finally helped it sink in. CLEAN YOUR ROOM FIRST.
If I happen to pass by her open door…open on a very, very, very, rare occasion, and I can see the once beautiful oatmeal wool carpet, I know something is amiss, there is a plan in the works, movies, starbucks, she wants something, she wants to go somwhere, anywhere. It may be that every last item from on the floor has been picked up and shoved willy-nilly into the closet, which is now bulging with dirty laundry and other not-to-be-imagined contents. Still, it looks clean. Ahhhh, progress.
No comments:
Post a Comment