Dust is a protective covering for furniture...

I am not much of a housekeeper. Before my children were born, it wasn’t an issue. It was easy to keep our small apartment clean – there were just the two of us. As a newlywed, I would grumble about the fact that Ron couldn’t get his socks in the hamper to save his life, but all in all, we led a fairly tidy existence.

When baby #1 came along, I exhausted myself trying to keep everything sanitary and pristine for my precious child. She, in turn, picked up things off the floor and put everything in her mouth…But still, I would wear myself out and become cranky even when Ron told me to “leave it.” I felt guilty leaving a dirty dish in the sink or a pile of clean clothes unfolded. The toys had to be put way before we went to bed. But why?

This dates back to my childhood. The nicest way I can put this is that my mother was an absolute “neat freak.” Mom was a registered nurse whose preferred work shift was 3pm – 11pm. This left the majority of housecleaning to me and my sister (3 years younger). Sis was completely disinterested in helping me keep the house clean to Mom’s standards. What really sucked is that if Mom got home at 11:45 pm or later and saw that anything was out of place or a dirty dish in the sink, she would wake us up to take care of whatever had been left undone. I began a nightly ritual of straightening up a room, turning off the lights, turning the lights back on to pretend that I was her as I looked to see what was out of place. Can you imagine? I would beg Sis to please clean up in an effort to help her from being yanked out of bed in the middle of the night. Not one of my better childhood memories.

But back to my housekeeping practices…once babies #2 & #3 came along, I was done for. Even though I didn’t work outside the home, I just couldn’t keep up with the laundry, diapers, dishes, toys…but you know what? It was ok. Nobody died or contracted the bubonic plague. There was a point that I realized that I didn’t want my girls to remember that I would rather do laundry, vacuum or dust than sit down with them and read them a story.

My mother lived with us for about 10 years from the time #1 daughter was 4 years old. She had a difficult time letting go of the idea that the house looked “lived in.” We disagreed for years about dishes left in the sink, toys not being put away, bathrooms left untidy…It wasn’t until a rather heated quarrel with her one day that I told her that I didn’t want my girls to remember that all I did when they were little was clean house or yell at them to straighten up. I wanted them to remember that I sat down with them and read them a story or took them for a walk. Mom finally got what I was saying. Soon after that I found a poem that I shared with her. The last stanza follows –

The cleaning and scrubbing
Will wait til tomorrow,
For children grow up,
I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs.
Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep…
~Author Unknown ~

As the girls got older, I still didn’t want to nag them about the house. I didn’t want to but sometimes I couldn’t help it. Eventually, I learned to compromise with them… "Keep your door closed so I don’t have to see what it looks like in there...” Which worked until I HAD to go in their rooms for one reason or another…oh well.

It’s been 3 years since my twins left for college. One of the few benefits of having an empty nest is that the chicks aren’t there to make any messes. When you clean house it stays clean….in theory, at least….

The same year that the twins left for college, a dear friend gave birth to a beautiful baby boy (turning 3 years old in a couple weeks). I will hereafter refer to him as Baby Hurricane. Since the girls are nowhere near making us grandparents (this is a good thing), Baby Hurricane cures my baby fever by spending many Sundays and an occasional sleepover at Casa Beeson. He’s good medicine for us old folks! Anyway, there are toys in the house again…brightly colored wooden blocks that really hurt when you step on them, nerf balls, bouncey balls, wiffle balls, toy cars and trucks, story books, crayons and color books, stuffed animals, sidewalk chalk, even a sandbox in the backyard. Toys are everywhere along with the mess that accompanies a Baby Hurricane! Would I rather have a clean house? Not by a long shot….remember, babies don’t keep….