GENETIC MISFIRE

   

        There are people, we've all met them, who keep their homes and offices so clean that it almost looks like they have them staged for a photo shoot.  Don't misunderstand me.  I am not criticizing; I am in absolute awe! My mother always kept our house looking beautiful.  Of course, my father was right there sucking up wayward crumbs with a dustbuster before they even had a chance to hit the floor. Somehow they managed to do this without loosing their joy and humor ...this just can't be normal.  My big brother, Billy, was a neat freak who left a trail of cleanliness everywhere he went.  My sister Shirley, can have her house perfectly clean and decorated, feed a crowd of 20, have the dishes done and a scrapbook created before everyone even goes home!  My sister Lynda, likewise entertains so many friends and family at her ranch house, that she really ought to install a revolving door!  She also keeps her house and guest rooms ready at all times.  
          Then there is me (and possibly my brother, David).  I KNOW that this gene of cleanliness and organization skipped right over me!!  David may have it, but he pours it into computer applications rather than his environment.  So I have to wonder. Has it been irrevocably removed from my branch of the family tree? My fear for my children stems from experiences way back in their earliest endeavors. Let me give you an example that occurred when my sons were one and two years old. 
          Back when we naively believed that one could keep a clean house with young children and a dog, my husband had a brilliant idea.  We acknowledged that we were very hard on carpets, but as a condominium developer he was on the cutting edge of all of the latest amenities for the home.  He realized that we might be good candidates for commercial grade carpet, and he had seen a beautiful Berber that he acquired for our home. The day it was installed, I gleefully rubbed my hands together and said to myself, "Let me see you destroy this one...hee...hee...hee." I THINK I said it to myself, but clearly my little babies were listening and must have thought I was challenging them.
          The carpet looked amazing.  I began to entertain thoughts of having friends over again. Perhaps I was NOT such a bad housekeeper.  In fact, my house looked amazing. I picked up all the carpet scraps which were laying around and made a mental note to vacuum up the extra fuzzies in a little while.  The boys wasted no time in bringing their favorite toys into the den.  They were enjoying the new soft and bumpy fibers beneath their toes.  Steve was in his office just a few steps away and called to me to bring him some insurance papers.  I gathered them up and walked up the short staircase into the office to help my husband find the information he needed.
          Ten short minutes later I walked down the steps into the den and looked in stunned silence.  My brain could not process what I was seeing!  There was a large red liquid stain all around the coffee table deeply absorbed into the new carpet!  That would be the new carpet that I hadn't even vacuumed yet!  What was that crimson flood, and why were my two little diaper clad angels sporting bright red hands and mouths?  AAAAHHHH!!!  The noise ripped from my diaphragm and Steve came running to find out what had attacked me.  
          We followed the red drippy stain into the kitchen where we found the abandoned one gallon Tupperware pitcher on the floor.  I had mixed-up an entire gallon of red Koolaid just that morning.  The pitcher was empty. Looking into those innocent little red-stained faces I had to face the fact that Preston, the one year old with the muscles of Bam Bam (That is a Flintstones reference for you young folks), had managed to open the refrigerator door and pull out the heavy one gallon pitcher.  Stephen was an idea man, the mastermind, no doubt.  The stain told the story of their trek from one room to another.  The den was perfect because the coffee table was nice and short.  Just their size.  No cups to drink out of?  Not a problem.  Just pour it on top of the table, place your face and hands in the pretty red juice and slurp!  When there is no more juice on the table, just pour some more!  So easy!
          I quickly read the directions on my carpet cleaner and got busy.  Considering the permanent nature of red Koolaid, it worked pretty well.  Of course there was a slight pink cast to the carpet in that location for the rest of its life, but more importantly I learned that I was doomed not to have a clean house.  I am bad enough on my own, but I also gave birth to some anti-clean influences and that tipped the scale.
          You may think that this is an isolated incident and I should not jump to conclusions so quickly.  Let me assure you that I have many other illustrations where that one came from!  To be fair, I should say that my girls color-coded their closets and have showed many wonderful symptoms of the clean and organized gene.  Even my boys have shown a few signs of effort in their adulthood.  I am so proud.  Now that they have grown up and moved out I should start exerting a greater effort to keep my own house clean.  I know I should, but I'd rather write in my blog!