This, I Know, is Payback

As a child I was a stuffer.

When Mom said, "Clean your room!" I would stuff the clutter into the closet and under the bed and dresser instead of putting things back in place. I guess I had better, more important things to do with my time, like playing with Barbies or Strawberry Shortcake dolls or My Little Ponies or reading the next Nancy Drew book in the series. For whatever reason, stuffing just became my method of operation.

Mom always said one day I'd have a child just like me. Why do moms curse us that way? If mine hadn't ever said that, I might have a perfectly lovely daughter who likes to put away her things.

(Yeah, right.)

Instead I gave birth to a stuffer. She's like me in so many ways, so it shouldn't surprise me that this, too, is something we have in common.

(Note: I have since reformed my ways. I am a recovering stuffer. There is hope!)

I picked said stuffer (my 10 year-old, Camryn) up from school yesterday and she immediately revealed that she had no homework to do.

"Perfect!" I said. "We shall spend the afternoon cleaning your room, then!"

"Uh, I mean, um, I do have a little studying to do for a geography test. I neeeeeeeed to study for that, so I guess we'll have to clean my room another day."

"So sorry, chica. We'll do the room, then I'll help you study."

Silence reigned on the drive home. I'm sure I felt tiny daggers pierce my skin as she glared at me from time to time. Mere flesh wounds. I was pumped. Let's do this thang!

We started our project around 4 pm (I had to help Aiden with his homework, which was an entirely different battle...)

Three hours, two bags of garbage, five (yes, FIVE) dirty dishes, half a dozen putrid socks and one laundry basket full of empty hangers later, we were done.

The room is blissfully clean. I can actually get further than the doorjamb without getting a headache.

Bonus: I won't need to buy hangers until the year 2015, IF AT ALL.

Serendipitously, we performed our cleaning on the first of April. My husband and I have offered to buy the child a loft bed (one of her deepest desires in life) if she keeps the room clean until May 1st. We'll see how long it lasts.

I don't think I'll be shelling out the dough for the new bed in 30 days, but she may just surprise me.

And then again, I may find Jimmy Hoffa stuffed under her bed at the end of the month.

Stay tuned, folks. Stay tuned.