Mother’s Day, in our house, did not involve the mother much as she was out working with her students. I took the kids grocery shopping and then attempted to do a thorough cleaning of the house. In hind sight, that was foolish, but I tried.
I did get the upstairs bedrooms and the kids’ bathroom scrubbed and mopped. I swept the downstairs. If I keep at it tomorrow, I might get the rest done depending on my son’s sleep.
That was one of the factors that made it hard to get anything done today. Not only did he not really nap, but he also was very cranky all day. Though he tolerated it better, he still hit is limit with the vacuum and stood there screaming at it until I stopped. More surprisingly, though it should not be, was that he was upset by the clean room I was asking him to sleep in. His crib was the same, but the room did not have a dust menagerie to keep him company, and it smelled like Murphy’s Oil Soap.
When I was a kid, my whole family pitched in on the weekend and cleaned house. As the youngest, I am sure I was included in this before I could be of any use but still felt that I was contributing. Both kids got plenty of opportunity to do so during our day of cleaning. My son either walked around with the smaller broom that we got for my daughter or followed me around with my broom when I set it aside. “Dee, dee, dee,” he would say, but that is what he says about everything. In this case, I think it roughly translates to, “Dad, you keep leaving your broom around. You are lucky to have me here to bring it to you.”