How do you feel when plans come together? I love it when things work out as I think they should. It justifies all the time I spent creating “what if” scenarios in my mind. In a huff, I will (in a humble way of course) make it known that my plan worked.
My strategy almost always works when it comes to housecleaning. I plan the best time and day according to schedule to clean the house. I divide the week into bite-size pieces. Monday is linen day, Thursday is bathroom, floor and dusting, and Friday is for the rest of the laundry. These are loose rules that I follow and they work, for the most part.
It’s that bad
My daughter is in charge of her room and her clothes (I do step in if there are exams so she can study) but the rest is mine. I don’t mind because I am a machine. Yes, hubs helps too. When I cook dinner, he cleans the kitchen. But I have held on to the lion’s share of cleaning. I have to know that everything is clean so I have to do it 😆. Yes, it’s that bad.
I used to rage about being the “only one” who cleans. Then, when someone would help, I would come behind them and do it “right.” Over the years I have come to understand myself better and let everyone else off the hook, for the most part 😬. There are still moments when I’ll ask, “Why is the counter full of crumbs?” Pray for my family.
The cleaning of the house has to be done just so.
When plans come together to make the house sparkle
Since our place isn’t very big, I can get a major clean done in a couple of hours. And when I clean the house, I don’t just wipe the countertop. The house has to sparkle and if it doesn’t, I’m not done.
Housecleaning is in my DNA. Mom made sure that it was transferred to me well before leaving home. She had a brilliant way to make her plan to get me to clean the bathroom come together.
Mom was brilliant
When I was a teenager, Mom noticed I loved her praises for my housecleaning efforts. So she adjusted her methods to match my liking. She actually liked how well I cleaned the bathroom so much that she assigned it to me permanently. Now, I understand her reasoning for that assignment (although I felt it wasn’t fair back then). I was a perfectionist and it showed in my cleaning efforts. For example, after cleaning the bathroom floors, I would inspect the corners on my knees with a cloth. Sweeping every last bit of dirt from the tile was the crowning moment of my Saturday clean.
She wanted me and no one else and found a clever way to get me to do it.
Mom: I want you to do the bathroom every weekend, Lea
Me: Why shouldn’t we take turns? Why should I clean the bathroom every Saturday?
Mom: Because no one cleans it as well as you, Lea.
Well played
End of story. Her plan worked well. From then on, every weekend I donned my superhero cleaning cape and made the bathroom sparkle.
Well played, Mom, well played.
I wasn’t jumping up and down to clean. Neither do I care much for it now. But, when my plan comes together to get my house in order, I’m pretty happy about it.
The moral of the story? You know I usually have one so here goes:
My mom’s parenting got a job done out of a teenager. She was pretty smart.
