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Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Forced


I hate being forced to clean. I hate being forced to organize. Basically, I hate being told what to do. 

I love to clean. I love to organize. But I like to do them on my time, in my own time frame. 

Last night was one of those “forced” to do something nights.

I had a breakdown in front of the kids, yelled, screamed, and cried, the whole nine. It was not directed at them, but they were witnesses. The cause for the yelling and screaming is another story for another time. 

I sent them to their room to clean. I told them I didn’t want any toys under the bed and that I wanted the closet to be cleaned out. Now when I send my kids to their room to clean, it usually involves 30% cleaning and 70% playing. They get so distracted by their toys that they forget their purpose in being in their room. Last night was no exception, except their dad told them they could have ice cream if they cleaned it in less than 20 minutes. 

Their mission: to clean their room in less than 20 minutes.

Mission successful? NO 

Mission: complete and utter FAILURE

And because they failed at this mission, my husband went in their room, dumped out all of their toy boxes and pulled all of the toys out of the closet. He informed me that there was no room in the closet to hang any of My Buddy’s clothes. So I needed to go through them and get rid of whatever he wouldn’t be wearing now that it’s getting chilly here. See forced.

So I stood in that closet and pulled out all of his shorts, his pants that are too short, and his shirts that he won’t be able to wear next year then hung up all of his long sleeved shirts. Of course they are all facing the right direction and the closet is no longer stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. 

Then because there were toys all over the floor and I am motivated by guilt, I sat down in their bedroom and helped clean out all of the toys. Not fun. Not something I enjoy doing, but my husband was on a roll and it was going to get done whether I was on board or not. SO instead of being asked 100 times if I was okay with some toy or another being thrown away, or being asked to “come here, please” dozens of time, I caved. See forced again!

But, I do have to admit, the closet looks good and the toy buckets are no longer overflowing. However, I did not go above and beyond because I didn’t want to do it, and the proof is My Princess still has all of her summer clothes on her side of the closet. So there, you might be able to force me to clean, but you can’t force me to go the extra mile.

But now I have to clean her closet another time…bummer.

What about you, have you ever been forced to clean something you didn’t want to do right at that very moment?

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