I go to pick out the boys clothes. Why are their winter clothes — clothes that don’t even fit anymore — still in their drawers? And come to think of it, why are my winter clothes, and Micah’s too, piled at the end of our bed? Certainly it isn’t too much effort to put them in a box or bag and put them in storage somewhere.
On my way out of the boys’ room, I’m suddenly aware of the three pairs of shoes that are scattered down the hallway, like someone stepped in the door, kicked them off, and promptly forgot about them. Actually, now that I think about it, that is exactly what happened.
I turn the corner into the living/dining room. My feet are assaulted with the crumbs from breakfast. I glance at the table. Dried splotches of milk. Rice crispies and granola are slowly adhering themselves to the table. Someone should wipe that down before it needs to be chipped off with a chisel, I think as I summon Squish to lie down so I can change and dress him. I roll his diaper up and bowl it across the floor into the kitchen, where it stops inches away from another diaper that hasn’t yet found its way to the garbage can.
I wash my hands and notice the splashes on the wall behind the sink. Hmm. That sure could use a cleaning. I open the fridge and start rummaging around for food to pack. Containers of leftovers are stacked high. Why doesn’t somebody get rid of those? It’s not like anyone is going to eat them. And they make it so difficult to get what I’m after. Ah, there we go. Cheese sticks. Perfect.
I step back into the living room and look for the diaper bag so I can put the cheese sticks in it. It’s not hanging up where it goes. I scan the room and spot it next to the bookcase. Hey, wait a second. When did all those books get all over the place? One that is halfway under the couch draws my eye to what else lies beneath. Three cups. Really? Three? And two balls and a couple of cars. Not to mention the dust and the lint. How long has it been since that place was vacuumed? Two weeks? Three weeks? Who knows? Who keeps track of that kind of thing? Certainly not . . . me. Oh. Me. That’s right. That’s my job.
I put the cheese sticks away. I get down on my belly so I can get the cups out from under the couch. And the balls. And the cars. There are some crayons under there too. I put them away. I get the vacuum. “Hey, boys? Can you come put your books away? We’ve got to get this place cleaned up before we leave.”