As the weather gets nicer by the day, I find myself determined to get some kickass spring cleaning done on this house. I figure we'll go room by room decluttering, scrubbing, and defunkifying every nook and cranny leaving behind a fresh clean house we can all enjoy.
Then reality bitchslaps me upside the head in the form of my oldest two children asking "Spring WHAT?". Cleaning you filthy little heathens.... CLEANING! That's when I realize that my chances of getting help from anyone in this house are pretty much slim to none.
Here is what Spring cleaning sounds like in my house....
Me: Okay this weekend you guys need to clean your bathroom (which you were actually suppose to do yesterday), the downstairs bathroom, fold and put away laundry after I wash and dry it, and I'd appreciate it if you would get the pine needles out from under the tree in the front yard as well.*half an hour later I am having to search for people and as I open up both teens' bedroom doors...*
Me: "Ummmm Sis are you going to keep up with folding the laundry like I asked? Just wondering since it's backing up downstairs."Sis: "Oh I was just reading my J-14 magazine so I'll do it later. Isn't Nick Jonas so hawt? Did you know that Ashley Disdale got a nosejob? Oh my gosh what did Miley Cyrus do to her hair? Pete Wentz is sooooooooooooo cute!"
Me: "No, I don't think Nick Jonas is hawt because I'm not a pedochile. Ashley got a nosejob so she could breathe. She had a deviated septum like your father airhead. Who gives a shit what Hannah Montana-Miley did to her hair? Unless she shaved her head and walks backwards now cuz that would be funny! Pete Wentz is fucking ugly and wears more makeup than his skanky looking girlfriend. Go fold clothes because this load has been finished for over 20 minutes now."Sis: "Gawd Mom, I wasn't actually talking TO you ya know. What's the sense in me folding them if Big B isn't putting them away? Besides, I don't want to go downstairs and then have to come alllllllll the way back up here to fold them. I'm worn out."
Me: "The sense is that it's your damn chore so you worry about you and I'll worry about your brother. ALL the way back up here to fold them? Oh my hell, that's like what? 15 steps? Take plenty of water so you don't dehydrate on the way down. Worn out? What, did walking around Walmart with C looking for eyeliner tucker ya out sweety? Poor thing. *smacking my forehead and wondering if it's too late to trade her in on another cat* Did you do your part of the bathroom yet?"Sis: "Ummmm you said we had all weekend."
Me: "No I said those were the things I wanted done this weekend not take ALL damn weekend to do them! Go get the clothes and fold them if you don't think the distance will cause injury or blisters to your poor tired feet."*looking at Big B*
Me: "Have you put away the previous load of laundry yet?"BB: "No, I was working on my playbook for when BBF and I get into the NFL."
*crickets chirping as I give him a "You fuckin' kiddin' me?" look*Me: "That's nice dear but how about you come up with a playbook for doing your chores in a timely manner. Hell, I'll even make you a Championship ring for that shit! Do you think you could do your chores and THEN the playbook? Did you do your half of the bathroom yet?"
Big B: "No, you said we had all weekend to do that stuff."*thump thump thump....which is the sound of me beating my head against the wall*
Me: "I said THIS IS WHAT YOU NEED TO GET DONE THIS WEEKEND NOT TAKE ALL WEEKEND TO DO IT!!!"Big B: "Whatever, I'll get to it."
*this is the point where I'm seriously wondering if the almost 17 year old is going to make it to his 18th birthday next year cuz mama's about to lay down a serious chokehold!*Me: "Okay I know this is shocking to the system considering that we've had the exact same chores and shit every single week for the last eight years but do you guys think that at 17 and 13 years old we could get stuff done in a time from other than at the last minute or not at all?"
Sis: *eyes roll so far back in her head she looks like Linda Blair*Big B: *giving me that "I can't believe that bitch actually expects me to do something around here. I mean, I don't go to public school OR have a job OR volunteer anywhere so who does she think she is?" look*
Me: Bueller? Bueller? Frye? Frye? Okay well I'm glad we all agreed on this. It's been nice talking to you both. Really, I'm glad we can bond like this. Now get your asses in gear and get shit done or I swear I'll put Dad in charge and go hide in my room!"Usually this wouldn't be such a big deal but when both of them sat at the table last week watching me play Twister with the washer and dryer as I tried to clean behind both of them, excuse me if I'm a little pissy. Gee, what AM I doing expecting two perfectly able-bodied teenagers to help clean up some of the mess that they help create everyday? The horror of it all.
Anyone happen to know a desert camel trader who is looking for new camel brushers? Worst case they'd probably make okay living step stools to a sheikh.Any other parents of teens with similiar stories to tell?