I love to vacuum, though it’s not because I’m one of those OCD clean people. With the exception of the hours of 7pm-7am, my small house looks like Toys”R”Us became a person, got H1N1, and puked everywhere. No cleanliness is not my motivator.
I will admit to a serious sense of repulsion when Joel and I started preparing the “big house” for sale. Our attention to housekeeping was lacking, to say the least. We both guard our laziness with the same ferocity as Zach does his Geotrax trains. Our new house is much smaller than the old– one floor and all hard surfaces–which makes it easier to clean. It was when Zach, a new crawler in his footy pajamas, became a human version of a swiffer mop that I increased my dog hair removing vigilance. The battle against the fur had begun.
But WHY do I love to vacuum? I’ll give you a hint- it’s not because I think I can actually win the battle against the aforementioned fur. My reason exists solely on the fact that both of my children are terrified of the noise. For a few blissfully loud (yet ironically silent) moments, my legs are free from being humped by small people. They unite in their fear and play happily in the playroom secure in the knowledge that it is a safe place. One, the dogs aren’t allowed back there which limits the dog-hair tumbleweeds, and two, because the thought of putting away all of the toys in order to effectively vacuum kills my zen.
Last week I was in the middle of yet another vampire/faery/mystery series (they run together) and I only had twenty pages left in the last book. TWENTY PAGES. I’m the first to admit that my current fiction tastes are anything but literary, and since they are really easy reads, I needed a max of 15 minutes to finish. Do you think that my two children– trapped inside thanks to bitter cold, rain, and snow- would give me 15 straight minutes of their silence so I could find out who dunnit? Yeah, no.
As my overpriced hair-removal tool (a dyson) glided over the overpriced hair collection area (my husband’s beloved living room rug) a flash of brilliance borne of desperation! I set the vacuum’s setting to bare floor and grabbed my book using the noise as my childproofing sound barrier. 14 minutes later I was done with the book and that 3×3 section of hardwood was the cleanest it had been in 40 years. I won’t admit out loud how many times I’ve used my children’s fear to buy myself a quick break from them. I also don’t feel bad about doing making them “scared” since it results in them learning to work as a team. Isn’t that something siblings need to know?