One Room at a Time

After lunch, we usually have about an hour of quiet time when the kids go to their rooms and listen to books on CD while I either write or clean house.  

Today right after lunch, my daughter picked up my son's "Dragonology" book and pulled out an imaginary note in dragon runes.  She started pretending to read it in a funny made-up language and said it was a note from Kaia, a friendly dragon from the Kingdom of Summer who wanted us to visit.  

I laughed at her inventiveness.  I enjoyed her thoroughly and played along for a good long while.  But inside I was feeling antsy because what I really wanted was not to go visit Kaia in the Kingdom of Summer.  I wanted the kids to go have their dang quiet time so I could write this post and then clean up the living room.

It really kind of amazes me.  Once upon a time I loved playing imaginary games, both as a kid and before I had children, as a grown-up hanging out with other people's children.  I detested and avoided housecleaning.  In fact, I remember feeling sorry for my mother when I was a teenager because she spent most of her weekends cleaning house, and she actually expressed a sense of enjoyment about getting the house organized.  I thought I would never have a life so dull that housecleaning would be one of my main pleasures.

Now, the thought of having a few uninterrupted hours to clean house fills me with a near-sexual longing.  I'm telling you, it literally makes my mouth water.  My, my, how things change.

I really was a terrible slob, and I still have it in me to be one again.  But in the past year or so, I've started a cleaning routine that has been so helpful and grounding for me, and I think also for the kids and my husband.  Monday I give the kitchen and dining room their dose of TLC.  Tuesday I write during the kids' quiet time.  Wednesday and Thursday is the living room.  It's sort of a "Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush" rhythm:  "This is the way we do the laundry, do the laundry, do the laundry.  This is the way we do the laundry, all on a Friday morning."  It's not always easy getting started, but again, I just try to break it down into one discrete task at a time:  now I'll pick up all the Yoga Pretzel cards and put them in the box.  Now I'll gather up the doll house furniture and put it back in the doll house.  And gradually the room gets done, usually faster than I thought it would be.

The room I've just cleaned usually gets wrecked again almost immediately, and believe me, no one is going to mistake me for a guru of cleanliness and organization.  My little routine is simply all that stands between me and sinking into trash-house levels of chaos, frankly.  Taking things one room at a time, the same day every week, helps me actually do the cleaning; otherwise, housework feels too overwhelming and I just let it slide. 

Lately, as I've been clearing the household clutter that has piled up over the last month while I was working on saving our neighborhood library, I've been thinking about my own mental clutter, too, as I posted a few days ago.  Usually, the thoughts that pull me away from just being present and attentive in the moment fall into a few major categories:

1.  Feeling distracted by the desire to do housework (i.e., playing on floor with a kid, I notice how much the floor needs sweeping)

2.  Feeling distracted by thoughts of creative projects I'd like to be working on

3.  Feeling distracted by loneliness and desire for adult companionship (i.e. checking my email approximately 3405 times a day)

4.  Feeling distracted by my own aversion to what's going on (i.e., thinking "I can't stand this!" when a child is getting grouchy)

5.  Feeling distracted by my own attachment to what I think should or shouldn't be happening (i.e., Believing that just because it's quiet time and I'm ready for an uninterrupted break, my children's needs really ought to shut off for an hour or so and I should not be called upstairs repeatedly to adjust CD volumes, bring cut-up apples, open change purse clasps, help with multiple potty trips, and so on).

OK, so what does this have to do with my "one room at a time" cleaning routine?  When I think about trying to be mindful, attentive, and in the moment all the time, it feels impossible.  But if I think of being mindful as possible in my next interaction, the next words I say to my child, the next time I touch my child, it feels a little more do-able.  

One room at a time, one moment at a time.  That's really all we ever have, you know?  And what we do with those moments is what we'll look back on and call our life.

Well, the girl child is done with quiet time already.  She's on my lap playing with handfuls of change while I type.  Let's see if I can get her involved somehow while I work on the living room.  Who knows?  Maybe Kaia the Friendly Dragon could fly over from the Kingdom of Summer and help us out.