Thursday, October 07, 2004
My sister Nancy recently posted an article on her website describing all the preparations she goes through prior to leaving on a trip. I can easily relate to the need to have everything in order at home, down to the last sock being washed, tables dusted, floors vacumned and assorted odds and ends back in their appointed places. Nothing is more comforting than that last backward glance at a neat and tidy home before grabbing the suitcases and locking the door behind you knowing that when you return all will be the same as you left it.
In theory this is a soothing mind picture to take with you on your travels, but the reality tends to be more like the aftermath of a tornado when you return unless, of course, you are accompanied on your trip by all members of the family that inhabit your abode, including the furry ones. Husbands, children and pets just don't seem to grasp the importance of keeping your home the way it was when you kissed them all good-bye. OK, maybe you don't kiss your pets and you don't expect them to wash a dish or grab a dustcloth, but what's up with the humans? After all, we spend years training these people and the minute we're gone all lessons flee their brains and nothing short of chaos takes over.
Naturally we don't expect children to understand our concept of clean since they are still in training. Look at how long it takes the average kid to straighten his or her room. Kids can drag a one hour job out for the better part of a day as they piddle and poke around in their rooms in a half-hearted attempt to clean up. Then they drag themselves out of their room after hours of "hard work", wiping the perspiration from their brow, and, looking very put out, announce that the room is clean. The most amazing part though is the look of surprise on your child's face when you go to check out this "clean" room and immediately open the closet and look under the bed. It is a minor scientific marvel to see how much stuff a kid can cram into a closet and under a bed without raising the bed several feet off the floor. And the wide-eyed, open-mouthed shrug with outstretched palms as they claim complete innocence as to how that stuff could possibly have gotten there is just a signal that they have forgotten you were once a kid too!
Husbands on the other hand are supposed to come complete with some training since they were once kids and had a Mom making them clean their room. But after thirty years of studying the wonderful man I married, I have reached the conclusion that his dictionary and mine come with two totally different definitions of clean and neat. Just last year, after a week long trip to Florida to visit family, I arrived home anxious to just unpack, relax and catch up with my husband's activities while I was gone. As he proudly opened the door exclaiming "Look how neat the house is honey.....I did the dishes and even made the bed!", I entered the house and made a gargantuan effort not to lose the smile on my face as I surveyed my once tidy home. Yes, he did the dishes as was evident by the pile of clean dishes overflowing the countertop....obviously he was at a loss as to what to do with them once they were washed. And he did make the bed...in a fashion known only to men. He must have missed the part of the training in bed making that involves straightening out the sheets and blankets before you throw the bedspread on, and I do mean "throw". Not sure what the lumps under the spread might be, I decided to leave my suitcase in a corner to be unpacked later. OK, at least he tried so I gave him a kiss and suggested we sit down over a cocktail and discuss our week. As he mixed the drinks, I slowly wrote my name in the dust on the coffe table, watched the dog hair float lazily into a corner, and decided that I'd wait until tomorrow to start cleaning the house. It was good to be home.
In theory this is a soothing mind picture to take with you on your travels, but the reality tends to be more like the aftermath of a tornado when you return unless, of course, you are accompanied on your trip by all members of the family that inhabit your abode, including the furry ones. Husbands, children and pets just don't seem to grasp the importance of keeping your home the way it was when you kissed them all good-bye. OK, maybe you don't kiss your pets and you don't expect them to wash a dish or grab a dustcloth, but what's up with the humans? After all, we spend years training these people and the minute we're gone all lessons flee their brains and nothing short of chaos takes over.
Naturally we don't expect children to understand our concept of clean since they are still in training. Look at how long it takes the average kid to straighten his or her room. Kids can drag a one hour job out for the better part of a day as they piddle and poke around in their rooms in a half-hearted attempt to clean up. Then they drag themselves out of their room after hours of "hard work", wiping the perspiration from their brow, and, looking very put out, announce that the room is clean. The most amazing part though is the look of surprise on your child's face when you go to check out this "clean" room and immediately open the closet and look under the bed. It is a minor scientific marvel to see how much stuff a kid can cram into a closet and under a bed without raising the bed several feet off the floor. And the wide-eyed, open-mouthed shrug with outstretched palms as they claim complete innocence as to how that stuff could possibly have gotten there is just a signal that they have forgotten you were once a kid too!
Husbands on the other hand are supposed to come complete with some training since they were once kids and had a Mom making them clean their room. But after thirty years of studying the wonderful man I married, I have reached the conclusion that his dictionary and mine come with two totally different definitions of clean and neat. Just last year, after a week long trip to Florida to visit family, I arrived home anxious to just unpack, relax and catch up with my husband's activities while I was gone. As he proudly opened the door exclaiming "Look how neat the house is honey.....I did the dishes and even made the bed!", I entered the house and made a gargantuan effort not to lose the smile on my face as I surveyed my once tidy home. Yes, he did the dishes as was evident by the pile of clean dishes overflowing the countertop....obviously he was at a loss as to what to do with them once they were washed. And he did make the bed...in a fashion known only to men. He must have missed the part of the training in bed making that involves straightening out the sheets and blankets before you throw the bedspread on, and I do mean "throw". Not sure what the lumps under the spread might be, I decided to leave my suitcase in a corner to be unpacked later. OK, at least he tried so I gave him a kiss and suggested we sit down over a cocktail and discuss our week. As he mixed the drinks, I slowly wrote my name in the dust on the coffe table, watched the dog hair float lazily into a corner, and decided that I'd wait until tomorrow to start cleaning the house. It was good to be home.