Somewhere along my life’s journey, I took twists and turns that made hiring a cleaning service out of the question. If we want the house to shine, it’s on us.
Our house seldom shines.
But it’s Christmas, so it makes sense to straighten, polish, scrub and wipe down while making room for our “Let it Snow” plate and “Nutcracker” mug.
The holidays are also a time for entertaining, so we want a certain amount of order in the house to make our visitors feel comfortable.
An implied thought goes along with this: “Sure, we live this way, but we don’t want people to know we live this way.”
My wife and I are among the cleaning-challenged. It doesn’t make us bad people. It’s just that the strange stuff in our brains makes us want to hide away from the washing and wiping while the strange stuff in other people’s brains encourages them to attack the mess with all due diligence.
When we were young adults with young kids, my wife had to work on Sundays every so often, and I was left home with the kids.
For some reason, I took that as an opportunity to clean like a madman while entertaining the young ‘uns. Of course, they “helped,” the little devils. And, of course, we took breaks for playtime.
I have fond memories of wearing myself out while hanging out with them. We also appreciated their mother’s reaction when coming home to a house that was much cleaner than the one she’d left.
Looking back on it, I might have been thinking of her as a visitor. It was as though the house belonged to the kids and me, and we were preparing for our guest. The end of her workday provided us with a deadline, which sharpened our focus and hardened our resolve.
Now, it’s Christmastime, which means it’s also cleaning time. But we’ve had an illness hanging around the house for far longer than any sensible person would want.
It’s been a bit of a struggle just keeping ourselves fed and clothed. If decluttering happened, it was an accident. If cleaning happened, it was a myth that no one could prove.
But my daughter and son are 20 and 17 and soon to be 21 and 18. Everyone’s home for Christmas, so we’ve worked to declutter, decorate and, yes, clean.
I pushed things too far the other day. In my defense, the gutters are as good as they get, and the attic has experienced more than its usual Christmastime attention.
But as I sat in my comfy chair and recovered, my daughter started in on the kitchen. Eventually, she asked where to find the mop, and the air took on the distinct aroma of Pine Sol.
While that was going on, I could hear the precious whine of the leaf blower as my son handled the back porch.
I’ve got to tell you something that’s near and dear to my heart. Christmas brings many wonderful moments. Some will equal, but never top, the feeling of sitting in my comfy chair while my kids went after the house with good-natured determination.
The scent of Pine Sol is as good as the smell of freshly baked treats from the oven, and that leaf blower sounded as soothing as a favorite Christmas carol.
What I’m trying to say is that the house is merry and bright. It shines.
And my wife and I are thankful for the gifts we received.
