Hamster Girl

I would have SO tried the Kon Mari method with my daughter when she was a kid. I can just see me sitting there... "does this spark joy?" It would have been a marvelous failure but I would have tried. I would have tried because I tried a million different things to get her to clean her room independently and all systems failed. Her room was a constant source of angst for my sweet husband for so many years. Parenting isn't for whiners or quitters. The internet is chocked full of talking about how hard parenting is. Um, yeah it's hard. It's baking a decent human being FROM SCRATCH! It's hard work but I'm pretty sure we all know that going in. It's also the most important, best job in the whole wide world.

My daughter was the messiest child God ever saw fit to create. I don't even know how she could make some of these disasters. We didn't normally keep nuclear waste in the house but it would be in her room, under a pile of clothes. She loved arts and crafts and would stockpile random things for her art projects. Toilet paper rolls, mac and cheese boxes, bits of paper and cards. Thus the name, Hamster Girl. My boys could get pretty messy too but they got messy outside. They were like wash and wear suits. I could tell them to strip down and hose off on the deck and they'd come in wrapped in a towel in their boxers with their pile of muddy clothes behind them on the deck. Easy peasy. But my girl...different messy. Glitter, glue, nail polish on my new dining room table, half eaten food - messy. Different. Once unbeknownst to me, she laid in the bathroom floor and connected the corners of the square design in the linoleum with a pencil. About a hundred tiny x's all over the floor. Art. Sometimes I would go into her room and I didn't know whether to laugh or Hulk Smash something. I didn't know if I should feel impressed that she could take her beautiful room and make it look like she was living under a bridge in a bizarre reverse-makeover-show kind of way or if I should just cry. I can tell you being angry with children is about the most pointless thing you can choose to do in any circumstance, am I right? yup. So I did the only thing there really IS to do. I helped. I helped and I taught her, over and over.

And over.

It's good that I am a realist. I'm an optimist by temperament but I'm also a healthy part realist. Her room was only going to be really clean if I stripped it down to a prison cell. I wasn't doing that, so I made my peace with helping her.

I mean I can yell and scream, threaten and scratch out my eyeballs but it's not going to suddenly transform her into a clean, organizing machine at the age of 9. I can waste the entire day doing that until she and I are in tears OR I can just help and use the time to teach her. I always chose to help her. Amazingly, with a little encouragement and direction she would do the lion's share of the work. She could make good decisions and focus if I was in the room keeping her on track. Eventually she got it and needed less direction. Every moment of every day is teaching and learning to be orderly is a life skill a lot of adults are lacking. I expected their cooperation and I expected them to work but I think I went pretty easy on the spirits. Giving kids grace works out a lot in our own faith doesn't it?

I realize it's one room but for her but for lots of kids it can be overwhelming. My girl would have probably been diagnosed with ADD had I ever pursued it. If I left her on her own to clean, she would become so absorbed in one tiny aspect she'd never finish. Picking up the Barbies would result in an hour sorting Barbie shoes. Our timelines, our expectations of our children often need to be tweaked so we can find more joy in our life. And we can never lose sight of our role as teacher. We are always teaching them and one day all that effort begins to click. Sometimes our children will amaze us. Sometimes they will disappoint us. Sometimes we amaze and sometimes we disappoint them too. It's all good. Sometimes we are doing our best and still fall short. So do kids. Everything changed when I gave up that battle. No more agonizing. No more bemoaning the bedrooms. Just go in and help for 15-30 minutes. Help them focus. Supervise. Teach. Model positive habits and a positive attitude about cleaning. Put some organization in place, purge. This mom runs a tight ship, always did. But I am also a soft place to fall.

A couple weeks before my daughter's wedding her room looked like a dumpster fire. Wedding decor, work things, so many gifts and items for the new apartment she would share with her husband after the wedding were piled around. Intermingled with all the things were a couple takeout food bags and leftover drinks from late nights working. While she was at work one day I tackled it and got it all whipped into shape for her, organized, boxed, sorted. I cleaned, dusted, changed the bedding, fluffed the pillows, spritzed a linen spray and lit a candle for her. She got home and went in her room and burst into tears. She was so tired. She was overwhelmed. She was emotionally stretched. She knew how to clean her own room of course, she's actually very organized. But she was passing herself coming and going in life and there was no time or mental energy to do it. The relief, the peace she felt that night as she climbed into bed was like the world had lifted off her shoulders. She told me the next morning it was the best night of sleep she had had in a long time. She thanked me again. She needed a reset. She needed a little help. Even though she was grown she still needed her mom. This girl, my artist is a graphic designer. She runs her own business, two actually and she is raising a family of her own now.

Fast Forward. She has twins. See how God has a sense of humor and ALWAYS has your back! They're boys though so she can hose them off outside. It's pretty amazing watching how patient and loving she is with her sons. She doesn't rattle easily. There is so much love in her. When I watch her I thank God for the grace He gave me to be patient and gentle with her tender heart.

Guess what, mom still comes over from time to time to lend her a hand whenever she needs it. Even though she is a mom, I'm still HER mom. I hope she never reaches a point in life when she doesn't need me just a little. She can do it all on her own but I do enjoy sharing life with her. Her home is beautiful. She has a great sense of style. She doesn't paint her furniture with purple finger-nail polish the way she always did Barbie's. She isn't the Hamster Girl anymore! She's the mom.