Spring has sprung

Spring cleaning. What the H E double mop heads is that all about? The good thing is, I’m not as fanatic as I once was about spring cleaning. Spring cleaning used to be a distraction from real life’s ups and downs. In bygone days, the moment the snow was gone from the corners of the yard, I’d move through the house with a bucket, mop, vacuum cleaner, dust cloth, air fresheners and allpurpose cleaners. Beds were stripped. Mattresses were vacuumed. Baseboards were dusted. Curtains were taken down and laundered. Window sills were scrubbed. The kids, terrified, scattered. And so they should have. I was a crazed mom with a mission. Like the woman in the television commercial sort of says, “I wanted the kids’ rooms to smell like they were away at college.” Our poor kids. Nothing was safe or sacred from CMWAM. Every bit of flotsam and jetsam in their lives, in their desks, under their beds or behind their bedroom doors, got sorted, wiped and put away, or picked up with tongs and tossed into a green garbage bag. And then? Well, and then our kids grew up, moved into homes of their own and my spring cleaning mission gradually became less urgent. Less like a mission. As a matter of fact, LOML and I have become more like our kids than our kids were when they lived at home.

These days, my own clean laundry often piles up on my bedroom chair. LOML has a chair, but he puts his laundry away as soon as it’s folded. I, however, can go for weeks making my clothing selections from the chair, even though I have a dresser with nine drawers as well as an enormous walk in closet. Every aspect of my once-organized and tidy life is now elderly teenager chic. The bathroom vanity often sports my hairy brushes, dozens of ponytail elastics, bath gels, cheap pink razors, nail clippers, dental floss, my toothbrush and toothpaste—in and out of the tube. I do hang up my soggy bath towels, but think nothing of having three or four of them on the go at the same time. Multiple towels on the go was a huge nono when our kids were living at home. It was taboo. Each person living under our roof could have one towel on the go—and it had to be wrapped around their butt or hanging to dry or in the laundry hamper. Toothbrushes had a place to be when not in use. Hair products, ditto. Our bathrooms had to pass muster, every single day. Hee hee. The older I get, the more rebellious I’ve become. I’m a rebel without a cause.

Even if I had a cause, I’m not sure what it would be. Maybe I just got tired of dusting, picking up, putting things away and mopping. Years and years of being Mrs. Clean has taken its toll. I will or will not put my shoes on the rack in the front hall. I do or do not hang my jacket when I come in from outside. I shrink away from dirty dishes and no longer have a problem eating my meals in the living room. We have a clean oven because it cleans itself with the press of a button. But even activating the self-cleaning oven seems to be a chore, because I have to remove the oven racks before I press the magic button. When the kids visit, I see the look on their faces. That “Mom’s lost it” look. One of them even remarked, “Wow, you used to be a freak about putting things away. What happened?” I think what happened is I’m not getting any younger and I’ve got a list of fun things I like to do. If I spend too much time cleaning, I don’t have time to ride my bike or workout or volunteer at the museum or travel or have a coffee with a friend. Life’s too short to clean my house. Has anyone seen my running shoes

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca