We Clean

“You know, you have to do your housecleaning chores before you can play.”

Harrison, Olivia, my niece Stephanie, and I were enjoying a Saturday morning pancake breakfast at the dining room table. We love it when Stephanie spends the weekend with us.  At 25 years old, Stephanie, who lives in Daly City, brings a special effervescence to our household. She somehow manages to be both an adult and a playful child. One moment she and I are sitting on the sofa, talking about spirituality and philosophy, and an hour later I spot her climbing out of a steep incline of bushes, pulling twigs out of her hair, holding high a red rubber ball.  Last month I pulled out of our driveway and came to a screeching halt when I saw Olivia and Stephanie sitting on toppled chairs in the street.

“Stop. Go. Stop. Go,” I heard from my right, as Harrison stood a few yards away, directing them in a stop-motion film.

This morning we were still smiling after last night’s Music Man movie night, complete with popcorn, chocolate, licorice, soda and lots of sing-a-longs. The night had a particular poignancy to Stephanie, who informed us she used to don her own marching band pants to watch this favorite film when she was a child.

“Cleaning?!  We don’t want to clean! That’s not fair!” Olivia’s shoulders slumped, and Harrison shoved his chair away from the table, crossing his arms across his stomach.

I felt heat rise in my chest. I didn’t want to clean the house either. I just returned from Chicago after a week away from Harrison and Olivia and I would much rather skip our weekly chores and enjoy of day of play with them. Their moaning and groaning made it that much more difficult to see the chores through. What I needed was a positive attitude. I just wanted to do it, get it done, and have a fun day with my kids.

“You guys! Cleaning is fun!” Stephanie declared, face luminous with anticipation. I looked at her sideways. What was wrong with this woman?

“Fun? What is fun about it?” Harrison challenged. “Do you want to clean the bathroom? Or my bedroom?”

“Sure!” Stephanie cheered. “We’ll do what I did when I was a kid. My mom used to crank the music and we’d dance and clean. It was so much fun!”

I quickly set aside the mental note that there are much more effective mothers than me, and considered her scenario.

“Will you clean with me?” Olivia pleaded.

“Absolutely!”

Harrison and I went out to run an errand, and when we returned I entered an entirely different energy field than that which I had left.  I walked gingerly down the stairs, trying to locate the voices I was hearing. They were coming from my bedroom.

“How about you clean the top, and I’ll clean the bottom?”

“Sounds good, Olivia.”

I entered my room to see Stephanie standing on her toes on my long wall of closet mirror doors, and Olivia scrunching below her.

“Mom!” Olivia beamed. “We cleaned my room, two bathrooms, your bathroom, and most of the mirrors.”

I had been gone one hour.

“And I vacuumed the living room and your room after doing my room.”

Dense is the word I use to describe my current lifestyle. Between parenthood, consulting, writing, traveling, studying and the occasional hike, most of my minutes are pretty much accounted for. So when I walked into my room and saw that two lovely angels had taken care of my haven, I had to touch a finger to the teardrop forming at the edge of my eye.

“You two are awesome. I’m so touched.”

I grabbed a dusting cloth, stepped over the threshold to my iPod hub, and turned the music louder.

“I love this song!” Stephanie hollered.

I love this moment, I thought.

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