Family Ties

The cookies came out of the oven a minute after the timer went off. Burnt. I was sure that I had timed it perfectly. Put them in the oven, go to the basement and take out a load of clothes. I didn't consider the time it would take to fold fourteen tee shirts, so I didn't receive the smell timer signal. I was too far away from the kitchen.

They slid off the cookie sheet onto a paper plate, my frown the evidence of my increasing bad mood. My son Eric came up the stairs, two at time with his newly folded shirts, smelling of passion fruit-- crumpled under his arm.

“Thanks, Mom. Cool! Homemade cookies,” he said, grabbing four of them before going upstairs.

I'm not sure which is more disappointing, the now rumpled shirts, or the blackened cookies. I made them because I was feeling a bit guilty about being gone so much lately. I had neglected my family and wanted to make it up to them. Work had kept me extremely busy, so dinners were late and housekeeping a lost cause. I glanced over at the kitchen table. A stack of paper plates from breakfast, two bags of groceries to put away and several shirts and jackets hung from two of the chair backs. A pile of shoes in the corner completed the homey scene.

Sucking in a deep breath I start to grab all the clothes and go for another run down to the basement. Just as I get halfway down the stairs, the house phone rings. I stop and wait. Nope, nobody is going to answer it. I start back up, then decide the clothes are dirty anyway, so I toss them over the rail. They land, piece by piece in a trail toward the washer; nowhere near it. I would have to pick them all up again. My mood is sinking lower minute by minute. I'm feeling put upon and taken for granted. Not to mention I'm getting nowhere fast in my endeavor to take care of things that needed attention. I wish I could morph myself into five or six people for a few hours. Then the house and the laundry would stand a fair chance of getting clean, or at least neater.

I stare at the clothes laying on the floor. The phone stops ringing. Two piles of whites and several baskets of colored items look back at me, as though laughing. It'll take me the rest of the day to get all of this laundry done. A sigh escapes. My son's voice interrupts my pity pool. Can I have no enjoyment on this one day off, just a bit of selfish pathos?

“Hey mom! I'm going down to the skate park to watch the guys. Be back for dinner.”

“Okay.” I call up to the sound of the front door slamming shut.

He doesn't walk anywhere these days. Every step is at a full run. When did that start? Why didn't I notice? I trudge up the stairs and pour a cup of coffee, deciding to allow myself a moment before I tackle another mess. As I walk past the kitchen island, my shirt catches the mail piled on the corner. Trying to balance my cup and attempt to catch the falling envelopes fails. They cascade to the floor, my coffee pouring over them as it sloshes from my cup.

A giggle rises from somewhere inside me. The sound of it startled me for a moment. It becomes a full blown laugh as I slide down the island to the floor. Puddles of the dark brown liquid bubble over the papers and smudge the print. Sitting Indian style on the floor, I begin to sort through a colorful paper mess. Bills, fliers inviting me to buy a new car and various charities offering me a new coffee cup if I contribute to their cause. One of the cardboard fliers catches my attention. Bright neon green stands out among the mostly while envelopes.

It's an ad for a new cleaning service. Looking down the hall with the flier in hand, dust greets me, seeming to wave at me with hidden pleasure. The scatter rugs are so filthy they are rolled up on each end, appearing old and dilapidated. The same way I feel today. My eyes go back to the brochure. The phone number is printed in unmistakable hot pink, calling to me. I throw the mail that laid in my lap back onto the pile in the floor and stand up with renewed energy and a bit of excitement.

A kind male voice answers my call, eager to help. By the time I had hung up I felt refreshed. As though I'd been for a swim. They would be here tomorrow morning before I leave for work. Hmm, that sounds wonderful, a swim in the pool. I haven't had time for it lately and I do love to swim or just float mindlessly on a raft. My mind goes blank whenever I hit the water and a soothing calm immerses me.

Opening the sliding door to the patio, suit on and towel in hand, I smile. The oblong pool glistened in the sun...calling to me...waiting for me to ripple the calm of it's placid surface. I lay the towel on a chair arm and walk to the deep end. My intention was to dive right in and swim to the shallow end. The smile on my face reflects the anticipation of pure pleasure. Until I look down at the bottom of the pool.

Leaves. Piles of leaves covered the normally aqua bottom. Dark and slimy looking, they seemed to take on a life of their own, swaying back and fourth, causing them to resemble aliens. Or hiding places for creatures I didn't trust or want to be touched by. Disappointed, I walk to the other end and take a look. Well, at least I could see the bottom, even though leaves were floating around there as well. I take the stairs into the water carefully, not wanting to disturb them. I might not swim, but I sure as heck was going to at least get wet. After all, I'd taken time to change and left all that wonderful housework all alone.

As soon as my foot landed on a cluster of leaves, I slipped and went under the water. I open my eyes and look around me beneath the water. I manage to rise to the top and wipe the water from my lids. Reaching out for the side to save my floundering body, my hand lands on a frog. It calls out a loud rib-bit. I jerk my hand back and my feet slip on another wad of slick leaves. Legs kicking and hands splashing, I try to regain my balance. Ever tried grabbing water...it doesn't work. I'm flailing under the water and suck in a large swallow of that putrid water. Yuk! I try to spit it away from me, but manage to drool down my chin instead.

Finally, I get back to the stairs and climb out. I reach for my towel through burning eyeballs. It's not there. Blinking to gain focus, I see my son drying his sweaty head and neck with my towel.

“Eric!”

“Hi mom. Sorry about the pool. I was going to clean it...I just forgot. Thanks for doing it for me. Can I have my allowance? We're going for pizza.”

He thinks I'm cleaning the pool, doing his job for him. A large drop of water lands on my eyelashes. My left eye starts to burn, while my wet skin begins a slight chill. I take a step toward my son. “You have to complete the job before you get an allowance, Eric. I suggest you do that right now. Forget the pizza and anything else until further notice. Clean the pool.” I stomp into the house without looking back to see what he's doing. I can feel a tongue on my back as I walk away.

“Mom. I'll do it later. I promise.”

“No more deals, honey. The pool is a mess. Those leaves will damage the filter if they stay in there. Besides, I'd like to be able to swim without fear of finding some creature below the surface that wants a bite of me.” My voice took on stern quality. I didn't know I had one.

He throws my towel on the stone patio and stomps off. Presumably to put his trunks on and vacuum the pool. Maybe not.

Several hours later I arrive back at the house with an array of totes, laundry bags and other storage paraphernalia. Each bedroom received a few of each. Then I started dinner. No laundry or other cleaning had gotten accomplished today, but I felt as though I had conquered the world. While dinner baked in the oven I made a list for each family member, noting what they would do with their new colorful containers. One for extra laundry, one for picking up items left downstairs and a sock bag. My family is big on socks, they must own a thousand of them. Finding a match is the trick, so I felt as though I had climbed the sock mountain with my idea of having a bag for them to live in.

My husband and both kids gathered to the table when I called them for dinner. Each had their list in hand, and questioning frowns on their faces. I hid my smile by placing the chicken casserole on the table. I sat down and looked up. They were all staring at me. I wanted to laugh, but checked the impulse, instead passing the rolls to my son.

He reached for them, taking two then shoving it over to his father. “What's up with the list thing, Mom?” Elbows on the table, he leaned toward me.

“It's a new way of cleaning. They tell me it takes all the work out of it and I get time to read or swim...anything I want. Isn't that wonderful?” I said sweetly.

Eric looked at his dad for help. Slowly my husband began to grin. I patted the corner of my mouth with a napkin to hide my grin.

Molly piped up. “I can't read mine.” Her pretty little face drawn into a pucker.

We all burst into laughter at her five year old truth. I had given her one so she would feel included, with real chores listed on it, to read to her later. I realized now that I had only accomplished leaving her out of the loop I hoped to create.

I laid my napkin down and looked at each of them one at a time. “I'm sorry that I have to work longer hours these days. I know it's a burden on all of you, because I'm tired and cranky, plus I don't have the energy to pick up after all of you. I made a decision today. I'm hiring a cleaning crew to come in once a week.” I had their attention.

Eric was the first to speak. “I don't want some stranger in my room. I'm putting a lock on my door.” He leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest as though he would refuse entrance to any strangers that dared to come near it. He meant business too. 

My husband shoved another fork full of casserole in his mouth. When he had swallowed, he said, “Honey, this is a great idea. Tell us how it works.” He sent me a conspiratorial wink.

“It's simple. I have instructed them to throw away any clothes, toys, dolls, socks, towels, shoes, sports equipment, papers, books, jackets and anything else that should have already have been put away. This way, the house will soon be neat and tidy by the time they get here each week, all that stuff will be gone in no time flat.”

Eric narrowed his eyes, toying with his peas. “You mean... for real? Just throw out all our stuff?”

I gave him a stare. Yo know, the one that comes with motherhood. “Honey, you all expect me to pick up anything you don't feel like putting away. Wherever you drop something, there it stays. I've allowed you to continue bad behaviors, but it has to change. I'm only one person and you all are three people. The rules apply to me too. If I leave a magazine on the sofa, it goes. Let me see... I don't leave clothes or socks laying around the den, so maybe I won't have as much to do as you. What do you think of my idea?”

My husband grinned. “It's great. I think it should go a step farther though. I'm quite capable of doing my own laundry. I'll pick a day and Eric can choose one too.” He looked at Eric for his reaction.

Eric sulked and slunk down in his chair. “I can't fold laundry the way mom does. Besides, I have to clean the pool. That should be enough.” He cut his eyes over to me. His bravado was fading fast as his own words landed somewhere within his teenage brain.

I took a bite and chewed slowly. This conversation was more than we had shared in months, I didn't want it to end quite yet, but I didn't want it to become hostile either. I continued anyway. “Well honey, if you think that we should wait on you hand and foot and give you and pay you for leaving your clothes all over the house, I'll have to re-think a few things. Like your cell phone. I could take that money and add it to the cleaning allowance. I think dad can clean the pool and then maybe you won't even need an allowance at all. After all, the definition of allowance is; payment for chores done.”

Poor thing. He didn't know how to respond to this. His cell phone was his life's blood, he could never give it up. He was beginning to see the big picture, but the battle wasn't won yet.

Three weeks later, I curled up on the sofa and the vista before me was a clean and tidy den. Not a loose sock in sight. One doll sat in the wing chair opposite me, leaving plenty of room for someone to sit beside her. On my way downstairs from putting Molly's clothes away, she's too short to even reach the washer, I peeked in Eric's room. The bed was almost made. His container had a few clothes hanging over the sides, but all in all, his room was clean and neat. A basket held the various sports items and the closet, though the door was ajar, was full of neatly hung tee-shirts. He hadn't mastered the art of folding, so he compromised by hanging them. I can so live with that!

Life is good. I laid my head back and closed my eyes. Work had ceased to pull me away for such long hours at a time, and my family had finally pitched in to help. Hiring the cleaning service has been the best money I ever spent. Not a single member of my family wanted a stranger to come in to a mess. Embarrassment mixed with a little fear is a wonderful motivator. I shall use this weapon sparingly though, just in case...