Monday morning mess

My son was heading out for a day of mowing lawns. As he walked out, he turned, looked around and frowned at what he saw. The current woodworking project with the sandpaper, hammer and glue graced one corner. Duets of shoe and dirty socks made a semi-circle around the TV. Empty popcorn dishes and plastic glasses littered the floor and end tables. Wadded blankets and pillows decorated the couches, chairs and floor. It was a typical Monday morning mess.
“Mom, this house needs cleaning.”
“Sure does, and your shoes, socks and dirty dishes are included.”
From the parents on down, once Sunday dinner is served, no one works around here on Sundays. The house always needs cleaning Monday morning.
Once the Sunday dinner dishes are loaded into the dishwasher after eating, all the snacks, feed-yourself supper dishes and the huge washbasin used for popped corn waits for Monday morning. We are taking our seventh day of rest.
Once upon a time on Sunday afternoon, when the children were much younger, my husband swept up everything in his path from the bedrooms to the front of the house. The kids would rush alongside him, rescuing stray toys, clothes and building blocks. Once the house was clean, my husband would go to the kitchen and make the biggest pan full of popcorn ever seen. Then the kids tackled the task of spreading popcorn to every corner of the house.
We laughed at our silliness in cleaning the house so thoroughly every week before making up the popcorn, but it simply did not seem right to eat popcorn in a cluttered house.
As the family matured, the toys were sold off at garage sales. The clean sweep routine ceased, but not our traditional Sunday evening pan of popcorn. It still leaves strays on the carpet, chairs and couches. Monday morning, I crunch over kernels on the floor in the kitchen as I clean the stove of the spattered oil and a few unpopped kernels.
By Monday morning, not only does the great room and kitchen need cleaning, but so does the bathroom where a mountain of dirty clothes accumulated since Friday.
As I grab enough blue jeans or T-shirts to make a load for the wash machine. I assigned each child to take care of 50 things that no one admits to having left behind. Years ago, I gave up arguing about who left what where. Since no one will admit to leaving anything anywhere, everyone helps take care of everything.
Once when I mentioned in passing my standard, “OK everyone pick up 50 things apiece,” the listener turned to me in relief, “You have that much clutter in your house, too?”
Well sure our four children keep pretty busy helping us make messes. I hate to admit it, but Sunday isn’t the only time this house looks like we are major slobs. We do so well on Sundays because we practice so much during the week. I actually have told my four children, “you each take care of 75 things before you watch any TV or go out to play.”
Ahhh, thank heavens, they are all so much older, more mature and capable these days – and off to college. The house stays so much cleaner this way, except Monday mornings.