Every time the darling twins come home, we have the same conversation.
A tornado hits their room when they arrive.
They insist that it was that way before they arrived.
It was no different during their Thanksgiving break.
I really did appreciate Paula’s advice in the comments that they will eventually be proud of their personal space. Ahem…it just won’t be their space in my house, I guess.
I have photographic evidence that I thought I would keep private. But then again I’ve been known to change my mind.
Years ago I let go of trying to make them clean their rooms. I’ve read that many experts recommend that this a battle you should “choose to lose.” You know, let them have their space, give them some freedom…that’s what doors are for…blah, blah, blah.
I have done this to the best of my ability. I’m sure my kids would disagree.
It’s still MY house.
I took to the semi-annual mode of cleaning. I stayed out of their rooms for about 4-6 months. Frankly, I think that’s personal growth for me.
Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing up is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing.
Then I would have to enter the danger zone for some reason and we would have massive meltdowns (them and me) and marathon cleaning day. Some day, I’ll share pictures of that family bonding time. Because, of course, I took pictures.
When the darling twins left for Basic Training this past summer, PhilBillPaul and I went in the danger zone and did a major clean up. We stripped the beds, cleaned up drawers, wiped surfaces, swept, mopped, vacuumed, etc.
I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, after a summer in the military that they would come back with some personal pride in their living quarters. That they would love their big, bright, colorful room after spending the summer on a hard bunk surrounded by drab army green.
I’ve pretty much given up on that now.
Full Disclaimer: All four kids are piglets. I have plenty of pictures of The Grunter’s pigsty.
I’m pleased to announce I’ve exceeded my personal growth goal and I have now have proof thanks to these photos by PhilBillPaul plus this text conversation with Wizzy which did not send me to the Xanax bottle.
Wizzy: Can you have dad look n see if meadows left her cover somewhere? (cover=military lingo for hat)
Me: Dad’s debit card was in ur room. We have meadows cover. Still no Vicks…where is it?
W: Oh crap sorry. Okay good. It was on the little table
Me: And he found a kitchen bowl of delicious popcorn with rat poop in it.
W: Hahahaha shut up
Me: It’s not on the little table. But he has found a wet towel
W: idk then
Me: Oh he just found the vicks under the bed. The rat must have been playing with it.
W: lol real mature
Me: The rat doesn’t really look mature. Seems kind of young & playful what with the vicks & all
Me: No one is allowed back here until room is clean BY BOTH OF U. Out of dad’s mouth…”u r not going to use our house as a dirty weigh station.”
W: I didn’t. Whatever
Me: nice try rachel wasn’t even here!
W: Its not even messy dads having a bad night n overreacting*
Me: He’s snapping pics now & he seems fine to me. I’m not looking becuz if he says it’s a wreck…holy cow.
Me: Love u dd 🙂 (dd = darling daughter)
Me: I appreciate the blog material 😉
W: Not funny. Im not amused
Me: Love love love & miss u dd
W: Yeah i can tell
Me: I do dd & I think you are being mean to me
W: I think you are being mean to me
W: Thats what ive been doing all night. Im having a rough day
Me: Me too…sorry dd ;(
*Here are the photos of dad and his overreacting because “it’s not even messy.”
I just laughed and said…
Still open to any suggestions about how to *make* 18 and 20 year-olds clean up their personal space. Anyone? Anyone?