One Room at a Time - “Um...no”

Today is the day. I have time. I have energy. I have desire. This whole house will be spotless! With tunes blasting, I start strong. First, I begin with the messiest task, my bedroom. The scattered toys are the first to go. “Where did all these toys come from?” I ask my son as I consider making the garbage can the final resting place for the toys. Suddenly, a rare surge of motivation helps me jump to action when an idea comes to my mind. “Fetch me paper, sissies, tape, and a marker please.” I instruct my son. Curious, he races to obey. “What ya doing mommy?” My boy asks as he hands me the objects I asked for. “I'm making labels so you can know where to put your toys,” I reply. I begin my task. Art drawer... labeled! Costume drawer... done! Puzzles, sensory toys, games, projects, Legos, blocks, junk drawer, penny drawer, drawer that holds NOTHING! All the drawers are labeled perfectly. I feel successful as we sort all the toys into the correct bins. My dear son has to examine and play with each toy before it is put in the right place. “Keep working,” I remind the distracted boy after every two seconds. “We did it!” My son shouts when the last toy is put away. My belly lets off an intense rumble. I briefly glance at my phone and then do a double take to clarify that I saw the time correctly. Yup, I saw it accurately. 2:30pm! I started cleaning four hours ago and I have only completed one small chore. In my intense organization mode, I forgot about time and food. My motivation to finish cleaning dwindles as I grab lunch for me and my son but the mountain of clothes in my room taunts me into getting back to work. We quickly stuff the clothes sloppily into drawers. The clothes hardly fit. Pant legs and shirt sleeves poke out of the drawers awkwardly. “I'm sick of cleaning. I can't handle this anymore!” my boy pouts. I half-heartedly vacuum the floor with my small hand vacuum. At last we are finished! I take a deep breath and smile. I enjoy seeing the carpet, clutter free. I open the door and go to the living room. “Oh dear,” I sigh as I take in the mess the living room has for me. I shake my exhausted head and say out loud, “Um..No.” I back away to the refuge of my clean room. One room. I only cleaned one room. “I'll clean the rest of the house tomorrow.” I promise myself.

I wake up in a good mood. I am going to keep my promise and clean the rest of the house. I get right to work. My son is being awfully good as I turn the dump of a living room into a palace. I am exhausted. I walk into my room and panic. Toys are everywhere. Books are decorating the floor and my son found my make-up bag. His face is an exquisite abstract painting of lipstick, eye-shadow, and base. My eyes widen in horror. All I can manage to say is, “Um...No.”

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