organized chaos

Cleaning their rooms is one thing my gremlins are required to do on their own. Although it takes every blessed ounce of self control on my part to not go up there and rant and rave and fling barbie’s around and chuck happy animals in the trash, I have learned (somewhat) to force them to learn the art of cleaning their own living space. I have the jacket for that club, but fortunately am no longer a member. I am, in fact, a recovering perfectionist.

Their rooms are upstairs. My room is downstairs. Therefore I can, thank the Lord, avoid seeing their caves most of the time. Especially since my oldest has acquired the mad skill of taking The Cuteness to bed for his many naps and I let him. Because I am lazy.

And the laziness doesn’t end there folks. I am going to air my filthy knickers for all of blogland and maybe some members of my own family to witness. When it comes to cleaning their own rooms, of course, understandably, the gremlins are proud of their work. And in the past, I would haul my tired body up those stairs, cringing all the while at the messy state of the stairs themselves, to see their beloved cleaning skills.

My mother always said she made us kids do our own work growing up. For the value of learning it. Did she ever have to turn a blind eye to the likes of this:

Some of you may be tempted to berate me for picking at the job accomplished here. And unfortunately I don’t have a before shot, because to see that would cause all your molecules to combust much like beans in a microwave.

When I see this, I see the various pieces of whatever sticking out from under the bed and the overall lack of crispness, as My Man would say.

But Jackelope was indeed proud of his work. And Gosh Darn It, I should be too.

And by the way, he took this photo himself.

Yes, that’s the lazy part. Ever since I got the little digital that’s ever so easy to use, I’ve sent the gremlins upstairs to document their work, so lazy old mom didn’t have to come ALL THE WAY UPSTAIRS to gush over it.

Then they come back down and show me through the LCD monitor. And I proclaim them to be cleaning geniuses. So really, it works out for everyone.

Here’s Zoe’s work. I cringe a little looking at it, but she’s making progress.

You won’t find this room in a spiffy gremlin’s decorator magazine, but at least the girl will have some cleaning experience.

And it doesn’t stop at cleaning exercises. Socrates is always building stuff when the thought of it doesn’t make him want to puke.

So, to save his poor mother the honest to goodness aerobics of climbing stairs, he whisks my digital upstairs and shows me this:

And everyone’s happy.

Except my blubbery body that never gets the workout it obviously needs.