When I was twelve, my mother experienced a meltdown that most adults only dream of but rarely have the courage to execute. After days of asking my brothers to tidy up, her patience wore thin. She firmly took charge and hurled the contents of their bedroom out the window. There’s only so many times you can ask your little ones to clean up before your frustration sends everything flying from the second story. My children need to be careful; I’m nearing that point.
I have four kids—three sons and a daughter. Let’s focus on the boys first. Picture this: they share a hallway bathroom that boasts a lovely tub and a newly renovated vanity. Sounds appealing, right? That is, until you see it cluttered with boxer briefs and, yes, urine.
Let’s start with the urine. Aiming seems like a lost cause; it’s as if they drop their pants and let it fly. Clorox Wipes are in short supply because boy moms are stockpiling them for this very reason. I’ve often joked about making them sit down to pee. That might actually happen soon! They shower daily, which is a win, but whatever they wore before? That stays right where they dropped it. And guess what? The next brother just steps over it, soaking it in the process. By the time the third one hops in, there’s a pile of wet, striped underpants that I’ll have to haul to the laundry basket, hoping it doesn’t leak all the way down the steps.
Ah, the steps! That’s where everything goes to die. Every day, I gather items from the first floor and neatly arrange them on the steps to be returned to their rooms. Very “June Cleaver” of me, right? They’d rather risk a tumble down the stairs than pick anything up. They can traverse that obstacle course multiple times without even glancing down. And then they have the nerve to tell me they can’t find their shoes. That’s when I start considering a little self-care with some Xanax.
Want to join me in the kitchen? Let’s go! Do you buy gigantic cereal boxes from Costco? I do, just so they can decorate my countertops. No one actually eats it from a bowl. Instead, they prefer to take handfuls and create a trail like Hansel and Gretel leading to and from the family room. They might even empty a box, but it will never make it to the pantry or the trash. Nope! My beautiful granite countertops, which took five years to achieve, deserve to be covered in General Mills. And the cherry on top? Leaving the milk out because they changed their minds and opted for dry cereal instead.
Now, about that daughter I mentioned. At four years old, she has fewer responsibilities than her brothers, but don’t let that fool you—she can make quite a mess. Her room looks like a tornado swept through it. And the dolls? Oh my goodness, the dolls! They’re everywhere! Clothes, accessories, and shoes are scattered all over. She has doll stands but prefers leaving them face down on the floor, creating what looks like a crime scene. If you accidentally step on one, she gets upset because you’re “hurting them.” She even has a doll in a wheelchair, I swear, because she’s been trampled by a parent who feels pain from stepping on those sharp little shoes!
To be clear, I’m not a neat freak. My bedroom has its own chaos, but no one is going to tell me what to do with it. I’m 41! I can manage my own space. You, on the other hand, are ten and I’m tired of seeing LEGO pieces scattered everywhere. Pick them up! Repeat after me: “I am your mother, not your maid!” (Let’s skip the “not your maid” part, though; people tend to judge.)
My kids need to realize that my memory is sharp. I still remember the day my mother emptied my brothers’ room. I was in the backyard, watching everything float through the air. I observed her remove the screen. I listened as she vented her frustrations. I studied her technique as she tossed everything out the window. It was a lesson in liberation! So help me, they better be careful. I’m just one more wet towel in the hallway away from letting the whole neighborhood see exactly what those boxer briefs look like!
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In summary, parenting four children can feel like an endless battle against chaos. Between messy bathrooms, cereal-covered countertops, and toy-strewn floors, it’s a challenge to maintain order. But at the end of the day, it’s a reminder of the beautiful, albeit messy, journey of family life.