Trying to train my children to clean up after themselves sometimes feels like an impossible task. Good teachers know their stuff, are masters of their subjects. I feel more like a Jack-of-all-trades, Master-of-none.
My nickname as a kid was Messy Jessie. There’s a big difference between messy and dirty. I wasn’t a dirty person, but I absolutely loathed picking up after myself, which made living with my sister, who was a perfectionist, a 17-year long argument over my things decorating her side of the room. I had figured that I shouldn’t waste time cleaning when I could be playing. It wasn’t until I had kids that I really, deep down, felt a need for everything to be in it’s place, such a need that if it didn’t have a place, I made one in the trash bin for it.
It applies in cooking also. Cooking is my biggest hobby. When most people have a long, hard day, the last thing they want to do is go home and cook. Me? That’s therapy. It’s only been recently, with thousands of ‘reminders’ from my husband over the years (and tons from my mom growing up), that if I clean as I go, things will just be easier all in all. My nickname in the kitchen was “The Hurricane” and you can guess why.
I helped my kids clean up their room today. The 4 year old gets sudden ADD when it’s time to clean up. The 1 year old comes behind me and undoes everything I just accomplished. They think they can fly and fight bad guys, so I have deemed them “The Destroyers”. But, will they have that name for the next 20 years? Unfortunately one of my superpowers isn’t predicting the future.
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