OK, for the record, I’m kinda sorry. It was a rather inconsiderate and callous wake-up call. Maybe rude, even. Like a bugle on the Army barracks.
But, hey, it’s Saturday morning which meant “Let’s get this place clean!”
As a hard working Mom with a demanding career, Saturday morning was the time for a “thorough” cleaning of the house, including laundry, vacuuming, washing floors, etc. Hence, the dreaded Saturday cleaning ritual.
In my defense, I was a single Mom, doing my best juggling career, raising my two pre-teen daughters, maintaining a very large piece of property, which meant mowing/weeding/ or shoveling gigantic mounds of snow/ice, depending upon the season. There were school/ parent meetings, choral/musical rehearsals, cooking, shopping, well you get it. This, along with one full and one part-time job just to make ends meet.
Saturday morning was “C” DAY. I literally bulldozed their bedrooms with my all powerful Oreck vacuum, flinging open their bedroom doors announcing my intentions of “CLEANING,” and encouraging their assistance. I was not met with welcome arms, rather groans, (swearing under the covers, as well), but my determination was not to be deterred, much to their disappointment.
What is all this “S–T?” I demanded, making a large sweep with one arm across the dresser top, projecting the contents into a heap on the floor. Each child pathetically protesting…..But it’s not s–t.” Indeed it was I assured them.
And so it went, every single miserable Saturday for more years than I care to remember. Each daughter was assigned certain tasks, at which they failed miserably due to lack of interest, i.e., giving a shit.
It got so bad, that on one memorable winter’s Saturday, I left for work leaving a detailed cleaning list for each of my little “helpers” only to discover upon my return home, not one, but both vacuums laid in a depilated heap at the bottom of the stairs with hoses bent and wheels missing. “An accident,” I was assured.
Needless to say, both darlings fled like startled deer reappearing later with bizarre stories of uncooperative flimsy appliances.
Of course, I believed every word. Hmmm.
BOTTOM LINE: Never allow them to operate any mechanical devices without parental supervision. Paper towels and Windex, are OK.
Years later they fessed up to dragging both helpless vacuums down the stairs bumping along like on a roller coaster. Cords and parts flung all about, cats scurrying under beds.
Folks, don’t let this happen to you! Arrange cleaning times just prior to shopping for a Prom dress, or driving lessons whereby, you may find more “motivated” helpers. Too late for me, however.
Now, I suppress my urge to chuckle while I observe my daughters’ attempts to get their kids to put their toys away. Hehe….what goes around eventually comes around.