The Crisis Clean

I took one look around the house this morning and realized there is no way I could do a thorough Crisis Clean (a la Flylady) without pawning the boys out to a gypsy farm. And Zorak was already at work. (Drat him and his work ethic!) So, what's a Mom to do?

Why, convince the kids it's a good idea to do it as a group, of course.

Now, this isn't your normal, Mom-runs-herd-on-the-distracted-children-and-everybody-wants-rum-by-noon cleaning. This is a Crisis Clean. There was prep. There was pomp. There may even have been a hint of circumstance.

First, we did our lessons. Then, I got them psyched for a Christmas tree.

I printed out the directions for a Crisis Clean and they read the page.

They disappeared.

I found them in the bathroom, moisturizing their faces and combing their hair.

Um... well, okay. They didn't break into my makeup. What's a little St. Yves in the hair for all the enthusiasm, right?

Back to the kitchen. John wanted to light the candle. OK, but why is the kitchen hot? I turned around to find a pot with weeds floating in water sitting atop a lit burner. OK, I thought, I really need to pick up the pace on the coffee infusion, because I have no recollection of doing this. Where'd the weeds come from? James informs me he's put on "a little something to simmer". Rosemary and cloves. A lot of cloves. *shrug* OK. I'm good with that.

Duke Ellington kicks up on the stereo - they picked Big Band for our cleaning music. Sweet! These are SO my kids.

So we split the sink into turns - John gets the right side, James gets the left. Smidge has a plate and the soap-filled scrubber thing. He has no access to water, so it should be relatively easy to clean up.

John's scrubbing. James and I are clearing. Smidge is adding soap, one drop at a time. I hope he doesn't get any in his eyes.

The weeds are starting to heat up. Did I mention there are a lot of cloves in there?

Time to switch. John takes the pantry corner. James starts scrubbing. Smidge has a thick, slimy layer of blue on everything, up to his elbows. I'm getting nauseaus from the combination of rosemary, cloves, and that pumpkin pie candle.

Eventually, the timer beeps. Ta-da! Dear God, has it only been fifteen minutes? I think I'm going to puke. Re-set and move on to the living room.

The idea of not putting things where they belong as we go is tough to get across to the boys. They want to put them away *now*. But, as much as I appreciate the heart behind it, I know better. It's like sending the Pokey Little Puppy on an errand. He's got a heart as big as they sky, but - hey, didja see those strawberries? And that butterfly? And, and, is that rice pudding?! No. Flylady is right in this aspect - just put the things that don't belong into a basket and we'll deal with them later. Not later, like next month later, but later, as in before supper. We finished the living room with six minutes to spare. The boys voted for a quick break. Since there are no official rules to this game, I pretend that's just what we're supposed to do.

Back to the kitchen.

Now the dining room.

The bath and hallway. What's that smell? I don't care, anymore. (I also blew out the candle and turned off the stove halfway through the living room. I couldn't hang with the odors anymore.)

We broke for hot chocolate, cookies, and a story. Ahhh, this is nice. Even the boys were shocked to look up and see how drastic the change was. And with so little effort. So little confusion! Whew.

Back to the kitchen - um, not much left to do. Unload the dishwasher, load it with the snack dishes. What am I forgetting? Oh. Crap, we didn't eat lunch. Oh well. They'll eat a good supper, right?

Finally, they opted to tackle both kids' rooms in 15 minutes in order to play outside for the rest of the day. I think I'll join them. It's just too nice not to enjoy. Might take a picnic out, too.

I wonder if I can get Zorak to do something like this with me on our room over the weekend? ;-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy