Once, when I was twelve, my mother had a meltdown that many adults only dream of but wouldn’t dare enact. After days of asking my brothers to tidy up, she had enough. Channeling her inner queen, she tossed their belongings out the window. After a certain point, you just can’t keep telling your kids to clean their mess before your patience goes flying right out the second story. My own children had better be on guard; I’m reaching my limit.
I have four kids: three sons and a daughter. Let’s begin with the boys. Picture this: they share a bathroom with a decent tub and a freshly renovated vanity. Sounds inviting, right? That is, until you see it cluttered with a mountain of boxer briefs and, let’s not forget, urine.
Speaking of urine, there is absolutely no aiming involved. It’s as if they just drop their pants and let loose. The reason you can’t find Clorox Wipes anywhere? Mothers of boys are hoarding them for this very dilemma. I’ve even threatened to make them sit down to use the toilet. It’s probably coming soon. They shower every day, which is a win for me, but they leave their clothes strewn all over the floor. It doesn’t matter what it is; nothing makes it back to their rooms. And the next kid? He just steps right over the drenched garments, traipsing back to his own space. By the time the third one arrives, there’s a soggy heap of striped underwear that I need to transfer into a laundry basket that I hope won’t leak down the steps.
Ah, those steps! That’s where all the clutter goes to die. Daily, I gather the mess from the first floor and neatly place it on the stairs, so it can be returned to their rooms—very June Cleaver of me. They’d rather risk an injury than pick anything up. They will walk past that pile ten times before even glancing down, and then they have the nerve to claim they can’t find their shoes. That’s when I start searching for the Xanax.
Shall We Head to the Kitchen?
Let’s go! Do you buy those enormous cereal boxes from Costco? I do, just so they can decorate my countertops. No one actually eats out of a bowl, though. Instead, they prefer to take handfuls and create a trail like Hansel and Gretel between the family room and the kitchen. They might even finish the box, but it won’t end up in the pantry or the trash. Nope, my beautiful granite countertops, which I waited five long years for, are now covered in cereal. It brings me so much joy. And let’s not forget the milk they leave out, the very container they never used because they decided to eat the cereal dry.
Oh, and I have a daughter too. At four years old, she holds less responsibility than her brothers, but don’t let that fool you—she can cause chaos too. Her room looks like a tornado passed through. The dolls—oh my goodness, the dolls! They’re scattered everywhere. Clothes, accessories, shoes. She has stands for them, yet she prefers to leave them on the floor, hair tangled and resembling a crime scene. Then she gets upset if you step on one because “you’re hurting them.” She even has a wheelchair for her dolls; I swear she’s put one in it because it’s been trampled by a parent who should be in a wheelchair for the pain caused by stepping on those sharp little shoes!
For full transparency, I’m not a neat freak. My room has its share of mess too, but no one is going to dictate how I handle it. I’m 41! I can do what I want. You’re only 10, so stop leaving LEGOs all over the floor. Repeat after me: “I am your mother, not your maid!” (Maybe skip the “not your maid” part, though; people can be judgmental.)
My kids need to grasp that I have a memory like a steel trap. The day my mother emptied my brothers’ room, I was in the backyard watching it all float through the air. I witnessed her remove that screen. I listened to her ramble incoherently. I studied her form as she expertly tossed everything out the window. That afternoon was a learning experience for me. I took notes from a pro, and I know how liberating it must have felt to let it all fly! They better watch out; one more wet towel left on the floor, and the whole neighborhood might just see what those boxer briefs look like!
For more stories from the trenches of parenting, check out some of our related posts, such as this one on home insemination kits. If you’re interested in learning more about pregnancy and insemination, this authority on the topic is a great resource. Additionally, the CDC provides excellent information on infertility.
Summary
This humorous piece recounts an experience of a mother reflecting on her own childhood and the challenges of parenting four children—three boys and a girl. The author shares relatable anecdotes of chaotic messes, bathroom struggles, and the struggle to maintain order, all while evoking a sense of impending frustration that mirrors her mother’s infamous act of throwing everything out the window.
Leave a Reply