It wasn't meant as an insult. It just came out that way. My
daughter just finished cleaning her bedroom. Her menagerie of
stuffed animals was now securely confined to one area. Her pile
of favorite books neatly sat on the proper shelves rather than all over
the floor. The freshly laundered clothes were off her desk and
packed away in her dresser drawers.
I walked into her room and the unusual cleanliness took my breath away. That's when I said:
"Oh, I didn't know you had carpeting in here!"
We could finally see the carpet in her room. My daughter didn't
laugh. She took the room cleaning seriously, although not
seriously enough to clean more often.
"Very funny!" she said sarcastically, as the scent of Lemon Pledge
floated through the room, and as a stuffed bunny rabbit threatened to
topple from the pile and onto the floor. I shattered her
pride. Bad move for me.
This is an age-old battle, I just know it: kids and their parents
arguing over messy rooms. I am sure that back in the time of the cave
dwellers the cave mothers were yelling at their cave children:
"Why can't you pick up your rocks and bones when I tell you to?
And why are your loincloths always in a wrinkled pile in the corner
just minutes after I just got done beating them against the river
rocks? Just for that, you can't help your father invent fire
tonight!"
Messy rooms. I did it. You did it. We all did
it. We all kept our rooms as clean as horse stalls on an
abandoned farm.
My oldest son just got finished writing an important research paper for
school. Before starting the project, he needed a lot of reference
material, went to the Elk Grove Library and came home with a tall stack
of books. The paper was finished weeks and weeks ago. The
books are still on his floor, and on his desk, and on his bed. (I
think he has carpeting too!)
If any of you are at our local library and discover that some history
books have been checked out for a while and are overdue, then please
contact me. The books are probably in my son's room, somewhere
between a malodorous gym bag and a mound of stinky basketball shoes.
Meantime, our youngest son has apparently developed an allergy: to
clothes hangers. We are not doctors but can tell there's an
allergy because clothing never gets hung up in his closet. The
floor works just fine. He also has an aversion to his dresser
drawers, preferring to place piles of freshly and neatly folded laundry
on his desk or under his bed. This makes my wife insane.
Everyone knows that once you allow clean clothes to mix with dirty ones
we all know that complete anarchy follows.
Of course, as I sit here typing and casting aspersions, a potential
avalanche of papers sits unsteadily on my desk. If I type too
hard on the keyboard then the papers will fall. One false move
and a landslide will bury the mound of papers that covers the
carpeting.
Obviously, there is a pattern here. This is generational.
If I am to break the cycle of sloppiness it should start with me.
But it's easier to start with them rather than with me. The best
that I can do might be to wait them out. Once they move away to
college, I can start filling their rooms - and their floors - with my
stuff. Tim is the author of "From Wedgies to Feeding
Frenzies: A Semi-Survival Guide for Parents of Teens." To learn more
about the book, email Tim at
or log onto his website at www.timherrera.com.
