Trying to clean the living room…it sounds like such a good idea. It makes me sound like such a good house wife. I’m not lazy! I clean! But reality…oh, it’s harsh.
I start out with good intentions, I really do. My hopes are high (okay, more like my frustration level is high, in all honesty), and I attack the cluttered living room with a spring in my step (well, again, not quite honest, as it’s more compulsive twitching from the frappuccino I drank to give myself the energy to get off my butt…but ‘spring’ sounds nicer than caffeine-induced spasms). All seems well, relatively easy, just another normal day of cleaning… and then I remember that I have a toddler. I have a toddler, and nothing is well, nothing is relatively easy, and normal is a joke. I should have waited for his nap—any well meaning person who knows their advice is flawless and has to tell everyone how to make their life perfect (like theirs) will tell you to work while your toddler is sleeping, in order to be properly productive. However, his nap time is a glorious, sunshine filled hour or two of utter happiness and freedom that I cannot blemish with such trivialities as attempting a cleaner house or any other work-like activities that involve more than half of my brain power and/or excessive muscle usage (like walking further than the fridge). During those two hours, I am free! I can read more than two sentences in my book without an epic disaster to save my child from (how dare I look away from him for one second of mommy time? What are books-and laptops-other than evil, attention stealing devices?? How dare I find entertainment aside from His Royal Highness??)
SO, unwilling to give up a second of my precious, desperately coveted free time, I decided to clean WHILE HE WAS AWAKE.
I’m prepared, or so I think. His favorite cartoon: on. His favorite food: prepared and ready on the table. Sippy cup: filled with glorious milk. I even left out two of his favorite toys nearby, in case he wanted to turn away for some random play time in between snacking. I am a fantastic mom, aren’t I? Tell Levi that.
The cleaning starts. I’ve got a large garbage bag and the vacuum, and I’m READY! First I clear the couch… it only takes a minute, and I allow myself a moment of encouragement-it’s going pretty well. Then I bend over to pick up some cardboard that Levi has shredded (the larger pieces he wasn’t able to consume), and hear a huge CRASH! This is not just a simple crash, either, but a horrendous, there-are-potentially-dead-victims-mixed-in-this-tragedy-Crash. Dread fills my soul. I’m still in the same position, arm extended, fingers frozen around a jagged piece of cardboard, and I whisper to it, “Give me strength, Oh lord, give me the strength to stand up, turn around, and not slaughter my child.” And then I stay in that position for a minute more, because it is completely silent behind me, and the only time it is completely silent is when my child knows he has done something horribly wrong, and is hiding because he knows what he has done is spanking worthy. And that’s extreme. Trembling, half from scared anticipation and the other half still jittery from caffeine, I turn around to see that my Glorious Child Whom I Love So Much has decided that he doesn’t LIKE the toys I left out for him to play with, (how DARE I assume I could pick out the right toys?), and has picked up the largest one, a child-sized laptop, and flung it with all of his toddler-might (which is CRAZY! How is this little string bean so strong???) at the plate of food that I had meticulously cut up (and arranged in orderly disarray on his plate, I’ll have you know), causing both the plate of food and laptop to go flying into the end table, which I have not yet had a chance to clean up. Should I mention here that the end table has loose dvds, books, pens, school papers, and miscellaneous chargers stacked on top of it? (Hello, this was why I was cleaning in the first place.)
Breath. Just breath. Keep breathing. Stop right eye from twitching so violently. Breath. Deep breaths. Why won’t my eye stop twitching? …And why can’t feel my legs…? Crazy. Turn away from the mess. Do I have a tic? Just have to walk away…
I successfully made it to the couch, I’m proud to say, before the tears started. Before I had to clamp my mouth shut to prevent harsh, angry words from flying out, questions that pertained to why my child hated me, why he didn’t appreciate me properly, why I couldn’t even clean the d*** living room—which was a disorganized mess because of him in the first place—without him having to ruin my good intentions. I want to be a good house wife! I want to prove to my husband that I CAN clean on a normal basis, that I’m not always lazy! I want to be able to invite friends over once in a blue moon, instead of avoiding anyone coming over because it looks like a tornado destroyed my home! WHY CAN’T I DO THAT, LEVI?? WHY DO YOU HAVE TO WORK AGAINST ME CONSTANTLY??
And just when I was really about to lose it, Levi walked over to the food he spilled on the carpet and started picking it up, putting it back on the plate. I sat there, watching him, and my anger at him evaporated. I was still exasperated at the state of the living room, don’t get me wrong—but I realized I had placed too high of expectations on myself. I was still going to be a good mom even if the living room was cluttered. I could take longer than an hour to clean, and even only do half of the job today, and I would still be okay as a house wife. Honestly, the world was not going to end just because my house was a bit messy. John never berates me or says anything harsh about the state of the living room, even when it is horrifically cluttered and toys are strewn everywhere. IT’S NOT A BIG DEAL!
I also know my child, although devious, is not defiantly trying to ruin my life. He IS just a toddler, and his tiny life is filled with daily frustrations that, to him, are just as important as my everyday issues. I’m glad I managed not to yell at him, because how will I teach him to deal with his own anger and frustration if he sees me unable to handle my own disappointments? There are much larger things for me to be upset about than the fact my toddler is acting like a toddler and making clean-up difficult. AND, he DID pick up his mess without me telling him to. I must be doing something right!
After that revelation, I determined I’d get back up and attempt to clean a bit more, and guess what?? My child magically turned into The Perfect Toddler and took his sippy cup, reclined in his rocking chair, and STAYED THERE UNTIL I HAD FINISHED CLEANING THE ENTIRE LIVING ROOM! I KID YOU NOT! He has NEVER done that before!
Lesson learned? Absolutely.
And my living room is clean!! J
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