Cleaning House

Recently I helped my daughter clean up the bedroom occupied by my 8 and 11-year-old grandsons.  I considered donning tyvek overalls and putting Vicks on my upper lip, as they do in the forensic shows on television, but when I got there it really wasn’t too bad.  Smelled a bit of small boy feet, but mainly there were layers upon layers of stuff, wall to wall.  As we worked, we joked that we felt like archeologists, unearthing layers of a civilization.

Later, when we picked up the boys, they were thrilled to hear their room was orderly again.  They’d actually retreated to a foldout couch to sleep, because of all the toys and clothes on their bed, and on the floor, and on top of every surface, and in their closet.  Well, you get the picture. They were very excited to move back in and snuggle in their own beds.

My daughter had employed a technique I remember using when she and her siblings were young.  She asked them to tell her exactly what toys they wanted to keep, and they gave her permission to give away everything else.  We filled up two giant outside bins, one with trash and one with recyling, and gave away about ten huge black garbage bags of toys and clothes.

My mother’s house was almost always tidy, despite the presence of seven children.  She was a naturally neat person, I think, and we always had a maid.   But I remember times when I was a child and felt overwhelmed cleaning my room.  I would get to the point that completing the necessary work just seemed impossible.  With my parents it usually turned into a power struggle, and I was either punished or shamed because of my inadequacy.

Home is ideally a place of refuge, and at least a minimal level of order and cleanliness is critical to our peace of mind and well-being.  It seems like such a simple thing, but maintaining order in our environment is rather like eating. It requires our daily attention and action.

During my first marriage, and for some years afterward, my house was usually pretty messy.  I was chronically depressed during those years, and of course I had two small children and worked outside the home.  Like all of us during that era, both my husband and I were clear that housework was woman’s work.  He did occasionally clean or cook, but we both understood he was assisting me in my job.  When things got too bad, I had two or three friends who’d pitch in to help, and I’d do the same for them.

Many years later, when Dempsey and I first contemplated moving in together, I was quite reluctant.  When he asked what I was worried about, I told him I just didn’t think I could ever again face providing that level of personal service, being responsible for picking up someone’s socks, cooking all the meals and doing his laundry.  He was genuinely puzzled.  Why would I think he’d expect me to do that?  Because he had a penis, I explained cynically.

Dempsey had presented himself as a feminist, and he did talk a good game.  But I couldn’t quite imagine living with a man who actually walked the walk.  I sold him short, however.  He’s always done at least half the housework, and together we maintain a pretty comfortable level of order and cleanliness, without household help.

As I was working with Allison, and reflecting on it later, I realized there are some important life lessons lurking in this whole area of house cleaning:

1)  In our affluent society, it’s easy to get weighed down by our stuff.  We actually found, among the layers, Christmas presents still in their gift bags. It’s important not to let our relative wealth rob us of simplicity.  We need room for energy to flow, room to breathe and move freely as we go through life.

2) When we become overwhelmed, it’s important to ask for help.  It’s also a great gift for us to give help without judgment, one human being to another.

3) Children flourish – as we all do – when we give them respect and understanding.  My daughter is such a wonderful mother; she really exemplifies those qualities.

4) We all need a fresh start now and then.  It’s important to clear the slate, in whatever situation, and simply begin again without holding on to any regrets.

I’m sure there are other lessons to be found, but I’m a bit tired now, thinking of all that cleaning.