Me and my inner nag did some cleaning upstairs over the weekend. Before the nag arrived, I asked the boys to clean their rooms. And, Trevor did. Not without complaining, but he did it. It only took about 10 minutes because he subscribes to the throw it in the closet method of cleaning his room. I don't really care anymore. I'm sorta done organizing their toys, and I was able to vacuum.
After Trevor was all done, I went up to get started on that vacuuming and the guest room. The nag arrived when it became apparent that Devin was in over his head. That nag will perhaps someday understand just how ineffective she is. Kill 'em with kindness! It probably would have worked so much better than the endless ranting. Anyway, we got it done. Devin's carpet even got vacuumed. It's not perfect, but, again I'm not so much caring about toy storage and organization any more.
I assigned myself the task of cleaning the guestroom. You would have thought we have all sorts of 5 year old guests over all the time given the state of that room. But, no, we just have kids who like to dump toys and not put them back. And, if the toys are in the guest room, they've sorta been relegated to the backup toy pile. Toys go the guestoom to die, you know. They're all jumbled together. They're a mess. And, why don't I really just throw them away, right? (I have tried. I have a weird attachment to the toys they never play with.)
And, why isn't the bed made? The bed really ought not be UNMADE. No one except Raggedy Ann and Andy have slept there since December, and even they were in the heap on the floor.
You see the nag, don't you? She's restless. She really does care about toy storage and organization.
Anyway, this started out so cute in my mind. After I cleaned the guestroom (and vacuumed) and made the bed, I closed the door and told the boys they couldn't go in there any more. If they needed something, they needed to ask me or Daddy to get it. Because, there's really no reason that our guestroom should ever need anything more than a light dusting or something along those lines. It's a pretty storage room, really. I think I'm making good sense here.
The boys, both of them, feel otherwise. And, now, neither John nor I are allowed in the boys' rooms without their permission. We are also not allowed in the basement. There is a sign on the door that Devin dictated to John. And, we're not allowed in our bedroom. There's a sign there, too. It just has a 'D' on it, but Devin tells me that means I'm not allowed in there.
Well, I started it. I guess they are going to finish it.
Don't tell them, but I just went up without their permission to re-tuck them in. HA-HA! Perhaps I will be the one to finish it after all. Now, off to bed in my own bedroom! That will teach them!!