"Are you kidding me?" The look of finding your house in disarray. photo credit |
Most days
when I awake, I greet my day as a mom on a mission, ready to conquer the world.
Then there are days where I feel as though I am on an impossible mission. My
most recent mission was to ease into my morning sipping a cup of Hazelnut
coffee, listening to smooth jazz and working on my latest writing project.
It was an
early Saturday morning, darkness still enveloped the sky as I slid from bed and
put on my fleece housecoat. Not wanting to wake my sleeping cherubs (teen
boys), I tiptoed from my bedroom into my writing space. After organizing my
space, I decided to look in on the boys before making my coffee.
I checked
bedroom number one…no boys. I checked bedroom number two…only crumpled covers.
My next thought was that the boys must have decided to sleep in the living room
again, after playing their game station. But they weren’t there either.
Upon further
investigation, I found a hand scribbled note that read, “Ma, we went to early
morning workouts.” I dropped the note back onto the table and headed to the
kitchen to make coffee. As I made the
first step into the kitchen, I thought I was in the middle of a war zone. The
boys had left the kitchen in a disaster from the night before.
My options
were to leave the mess until my sons returned or clean it and fuss at when they
returned. I tried to wait for their
return, but after a couple of hours, I couldn’t take the site anymore. So I
cleaned.
Not only did
I clean the kitchen, but my rampage drifted into the living room where I picked
up blankets, game controllers and empty microwave popcorn bags. Once I was done
cleaning the boys dragged in as though they had worked a full day. I began
talking right away, “You should have checked with me before you left the house.
There were things for you to do.”
The family spokesman,
my fifteen-year-old, said, “You were asleep, we didn’t want to wake you.”
Before I
could respond, my older son looked around the house and said, “You did a good
job Mama. The house looks good.” That was his attempt to distract me from the
fact that neither of them helped me clean.
My impossible
mission was twofold – to relax and write; to have a clean house (at least on
the surface). The mission was accomplished, but not without compromise. The
next time I have a mission that involves my teens, I’ll be sure to spell out
the ground rules.
How do you
turn a Mission Impossible into a mission accomplished?