Learning to CRAWL

I endeavor to progress my home towards a state of perpetual cleanliness. I find it difficult to progress. My best analogy would be pushing a rock up a never-ending hill. (Yes, this is a well-used analogy, generally associated with one of the deeper pits in Hades).

And, yet, gravity must be fought. The rock must continue to progress towards the summit.

In a comment on my “Lenten Observance List” post (LOL), a friend recommended that I consider engaging the Flylady. I am familiar with her. I recently found her book, which was lent to my by Indy almost exactly one-half decade ago. Her techniques and ideas are excellent. So, in spite of the fact that my losing the book in the first place was beyond a little Freudian, the dear Flylady could bear no blame for my present situation. I signed up for her e-mails.

Now I remember. I remember exactly why I lost the book.

The truth is, I don’t need to learn to F.L.Y. The Flylady suggests that by progressing towards the clean house, the happy housecleaner will learn to F.L.Y., which means Finally Loving Yourself.

For me, this is like sending someone with a weight problem to an Alcohol Anonymous meeting. I love myself just fine. In fact, if it is true that I will love myself MORE with a clean house, society should appreciate my disaster as it probably benefits from this appropriate dose of humility. I read a testimonial in a Flylady email this morning, in which someone admitted that they finally got dressed to the shoes and stopped craving Little Debbie cakes. I am happy for anyone who succeeds in a personal struggle. This, however, is not my struggle.

And, well, it got me thinking.

Another Flylady mantra is CHAOS. CHAOS translates into the ‘Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome.’ I understand this conceptually. I do clean my house in a panicked sort of way before certain visits. But, those who visit me regularly know that I have people over regardless of my home's preparedness. You can walk into my house any day of the week and I’ll gladly make you a cup of coffee and sit down with you in the least cluttered area. And, if I have something to offer, you’ll leave with a little banana bread, or a hand-me-down dress for your daughter. If I am making dinner, I’ll pull up a chair so you can talk to me while I finish sautéing the meat and I’ll make sure an extra plate is set for you, but I’ll never, ever tell you not to come in.

And, that got me thinking too.

Dear Flylady, please add an addendum to your excellent book for folks who have these other dysfunctions: "excessive" self-esteem and an "under-developed" sense of shame.

Since I FLY rather well, I considered that I must need to slow down a bit and CRAWL. (No, I shouldn't wear sweatpants and eat Little Debbie cakes, stop thinking it.)

About the same time that I borrowed the Flylady book, a different friend told me how she desperately disliked picking up the toys after her toddler. As soon as she put them away, the child would have them out again.

I explained to her that the goal was not to clean the floor, but to ‘reset’ the child’s activities. A toy on the floor is less likely to be used. So, by ‘resetting’ their toys, you are encouraging additional play, which will improve their overall development and thus is an important part of parenting. In effect, you should feel GOOD when they pull the toys off the shelf, because that is exactly why you (and eventually they) put them there.

So, that is CRAWL. Constantly Resetting Activities With Love.

And then there was CHAOS. I do not have an instinctual need to clean my house. As an example, consider freshly baked bread. Everyone I know loves to have a fresh loaf of bread baking in the oven, and loves eating that bread when it emerges. I consider it well worth my time to make this happen. The time is spread across my day with sessions of rising in between. When that bread emerges, I never question the time I spent baking it. Even when I am cleaning up the last crumbs, I am happy. You may not feel that way, and would be perfectly satisfied with a loaf purchased from the bakery.

I also like to have a clean house. However, at the end of the time necessary to make the clean house emerge, I do not feel that it was time well spent. I am not sufficiently satisfied by the result. However, just like you might take the time to buy a loaf of bread at the store, I would likewise not leave the toilets to their own devices forever.

What I need to do, then, is to replace panic with P.A.N.I.C., Perpetual And Naturally Instituted Cleanliness. I enjoy theorizing far more than cleaning.

Yeah, I know, I could quit blogging and clean instead. But, another friend reminded me that I would probably be so sad that I would start wearing sweats and eating Little Debbie cakes. It just isn't worth the risk.

Superior Housekeeping

I never learned to keep house. In high school, I had a typical clean-up routine prior to my parents’ return from work: throw out old periodicals/newspapers, put dishes in dishwasher, vacuum living room, start dinner. I was a busy student with lots of activities. That routine managed to keep any additional demands at bay.

When I lived alone, I cleaned before I had visitors. Fortunately, I entertained frequently. No, I didn’t clean very well. Anyway, who needs fussy friends?

When I started this job as a SAHM, I bought or borrowed a few books on the subject. I paid some attention to commercials. (I learned a lot about cleaning from commercials). I hired a cleaning lady and tried to follow her around once. She didn’t like that. A friend gave me the “Flylady” book. I read it until I got to the part about CHAOS (can’t have anyone over syndrome). The premise was that my messy house was causing me a great deal of embarrassment and consternation. The book implied that I wasn’t willing to have people over because I was so dissatisfied. I wasn’t “loving myself.” Oh, I love myself. Unfortunately, I was never properly wired to be embarrassed about my house. I learned a few useful tricks, then I lost the book in a pile of other books, only to find it again about four years later.

I went to playgroup at homes that were very clean, and I interviewed my friends who lived in those homes. It would go something like:

“Oh, so you make your bed every morning, and then you clean the bathroom every week. Wow, that sounds like it takes a lot of time.”

“Yes, I guess. But, don’t you just feel so good when your house is sparkling clean?”

My answer was “no,” but I think the one time I actually said it, the rest of the playgroup didn’t go very well. I stopped talking to playgroup about cleaning.

I called my sister. Her house is pretty clean most of the time.

“A clean house is the sign of a sick mind. Isn’t that what Mom says?”

“Why is your house so clean?”

“My husband doesn’t think it’s a waste of time.”

Neither does mine, of course, except that he has a much different work schedule. He’s not home enough to clean much. He does help when he is home. And, my sister does a lot more than she is willing to admit.

I asked my mother-in-law. She is pretty conservative. Surely, she will hail the merits of cleaning house, and encourage me along the right path.

“Honey, your house is fine. Make it so you are comfortable. If anything, I should have spent LESS time cleaning when my kids were little.”

This was encouragement?

I called my mother. I didn’t grow up in a barn. Well, it wasn’t “Better Homes & Gardens, but it was clean.”

“Why can’t I clean my house?”

“Oh, I didn’t think it was worth my time to teach you kids to clean. Your grandmother didn’t teach us to clean either.”

“Really?”

“Your aunt asked her once how to clean a toilet. Your grandmother told her that she didn’t teach any of her kids to clean toilets, and by golly, she wasn’t going to start now!”

“That isn’t helpful.”

“She had a theory, Honey. She always told us that if your guests notice that your house isn’t perfect, it will give them the feeling of superiority. Of course, it is appropriate for a hostess to instill a feeling of superiority on her guests: proper humility.”

“Oh.”

“And, of course, if your guests DON’T notice that your house isn’t perfect, then it really would have been a horrific waste of time to have fussed over it.”

My grandmother really said that.

So, I do clean my house, a little. Everyone has to, really. But, I maintain my strategy of showering my guests with good food and good conversation to distract them from noticing the details. But, if you happen to come over and do notice that my house isn’t perfect, please relish that feeling of superiority I have bestowed upon you.

(But please, don’t tell anyone else. I would like to maintain any psychological advantage I can over those unknowing guests. They won’t even know why they feel so happy!)