Today was dubbed 'get this house together' today. My organization has gotten sloppy, laundry is threatening to get up walk somewhere else, and there were more tubes of toothpaste in the kitchen than in the bathroom. I got going in the kitchen by putting everything that didn't belong in that room on the table. My theory was if we wanted to eat lunch or dinner we'd have to have it cleared off. Obviously, I have forgotten who I live with.
I have to say, Laurel got down to business right away. The added incentive of scooter time probably helped. Spencer even wanted to pitch in, asking "What chore can I do?"
Kiley's first assignment was to finish cleaning the playroom. Unfortunately she decided that it was easiest to just lay on the floor and cry.
I would understand this response if I had asked her to saw her finger off with a rusty spoon. She doesn't even put up that much resistance when it's her turn to clean the cat litter! As I was loading the dishwasher (AGAIN) I gazed on my nearly ten-year old daughter lying on her back in the playroom. Kiley had stopped crying. However, she seemed extremely resigned to laying on her back.
I had a quick memory of myself at that same age. My mother would come into my room and sweep everything into the center. She would hang a trash bag on the door and give me an hour to have my room cleaned before she would come in and put EVERYTHING into the trash bag. I hated it and loved it. It always took me forever to get started and probably about 30 minutes to actually complete the cleaning. I would spend the rest of the day in my room listening to music feeling very pleased with my efforts.
I have read quite a few books about procrastination. I get that perfectionism has a lot to do with it. I also think that having someone else tell me what to do gives rise to some innate instinct to freeze. So, I did what my mother did. I set the timer.
Amazingly the room was finished and my girl was pleased with her work.
Now I've got to clean my room.