Ah Mondays- love ’em! Especially after a 4 day weekend. The laundry begins to reproduce in the baskets. Boots, mittens, hats, and snow pants create an obstacle course through the narrow hallway we call “mudroom.” Dishes clutter both sides of the sink, the dishwasher is full, and so is the table. Library books, school papers, random games and toys, are lying here, there and everywhere. Not a pick-up task for the faint of heart.
First I eat my breakfast. Then I sip my coffee. Then I shower. And then, when there is absolutely no other option; I begin the daunting task of putting it all back together again. Main floor bathroom, mudroom, living room, playroom, dining room, kitchen. Check. Upstairs my room, little girls room, boys room, bathroom, hallway. Check. (I’ve long since given up the job of Ellynne and Maddie’s room- I know: Coward; right?!) And so my routine goes.
Yesterday, Sam lent a helping hand. He doesn’t have kindergarten on Mondays, so he stays home and keeps Naomi company. After their bath, I asked them to clean up their things in the upstairs bathroom. I was working on the main floor, I figured I’d check on them when I reached the upstairs level.
Earlier, when I went in to get the boys up for school, I regretted not putting on my life jacket. “Guys! You can’t pick anything up?!” “It’ll take me a month of Sundays to pick this all up!” “Sorry, Mom…” Grrrr. I was not looking forward to re-entering that room. I saved it for last.
Imagine the surprised look of my face when I walked into the room and found it; CLEAN! Well, almost. The only hint of anything amiss was Sam’s Sunday shirt slung over the closet door, which was shut.
“Sam!” “You did a great job cleaning your room!” “Thanks, Mom!” he beamed. All of his little cars were lined up next to his animals, on the book shelf. A trash bag had been hooked to one of the dresser knobs. “Is this trash?” I asked, picking up a pile of candy wrappers that he wouldn’t have been able to see on top of the dresser. “Yep!” he proudly affirmed. That’s my boy. Then I opened the closet door flagged with his Sunday shirt.
And there was the Mount Everest of debris. Boxers, socks, sweaters, t-shirts, dress shirts, jeans, dress pants; everything. Not hung and folded, but rather flung and tossed. I’m not sure if the sight before me was a result of his hurried efforts to get the job done, or if he actually enjoyed chucking each item into the closet; like so many basketballs. Up on the top shelf, where the lad simply can not reach, was his little red sweater; dangling haphazardly by a sleeve.
Turns out, everything hadn’t been thrown into the closet. There were also many things stuffed into drawers. Sam’s pj’s in Charlie’s sock drawer, right where he’d be able to easily find them, when I sent him up to get ready for bed later. Charlie’s dirty sweatshirt filled Sam’s pj drawer. You get the picture, right?!
Well, hey, at least he lined his cars up!
