Many people hate Mondays. Personally, I love them, then again, I don’t have to sit in rush hour traffic for an hour or two. Besides bringing an often climatic end to the Fantasy Football week, Monday’s house cleaning schedule is a chance for me to gauge how smoothly things have gone the week before and what we need to work on in the week ahead.
Take laundry for instance. Monday morning is laundry day. When I put away the kids’ clothes, I can tell whether or not we need to work on personal hygiene. How does one know that hygiene may be an issue?
It’s quite easy actually. If you put away six pairs of pants and six shirts, but only two pairs of underwear and socks, it’s probably time to reconsider letting the boy get himself dressed after bath time.
The same method can be applied to my daughter. When I see more dance costumes and dress-up clothes than shirt and pant combos, again, it’s probably time to reconsider letting her dress herself.
Mondays are nice because I have a set routine. This routine is crucial to maintaining some sense of sanity. Part of this routine includes doing a quick clean up of the kids’ rooms on Monday. And, when I find moldy sippy cups under the baby’s crib, it tells me that maybe I need to do a spot check later on in the week as well.
As I wipe down the bathroom, I can tell that we need to work on spitting. You’d think boys were born knowing how to spit and, truth be told, they probably are. But aim takes practice. When I find more toothpaste spittle on the faucet and mirror than in the sink, it’s time to hone up on hawking a loogie. Still, I give the boy credit for landing spit on both the mirror and faucet; it seems it should be physically impossible to spit both up and down.
You may have heard the saying that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Anyone that has cleaned a messy house day after day, only to have to start over again the next, can tell you differently. It’s not insanity. It’s the routine that helps us keep our sanity. It’s the foundation that our days are built upon and a springboard for raising our children. You have to start somewhere; it might as well be with the sour sippy-cup under the bed.