Who Are You Calling a Neat Freak?

Anyone who knows me is already familiar with this fact. For those of you who haven't been to my brick home (as opposed to my virtual home, right here), I will let you in on the secret. I'm kind of a neat freak. Okay, I am a neat freak. And it's not really that secret. What you have to understand is that, in comparison to my mother, I am a complete SLOB!!!

My mother irons sheets - SHEETS!! That you lie down on and wrinkle. I don't iron anything if I can help it. She irons t-shirts to work out in. Oh my God - I will leave a pile of clean laundry to be folded in the laundry basket upon occasion. For days. I try to get it folded, but on the mountains of laundry days when load follows load and I'm busy with the kids . . . oh, well, we live with a few wrinkles. And when I was younger and she still ironed my clothes, my Mom ironed my JEANS. Yes, I had a crease down the front of my jeans. Perfectly pressed Jordache jeans. How embarrassing. When she decided that it was time for me to start ironing (grade 9? 10?), it wasn't an option. I was not allowed out of the house without ironed clothes. But I rebelled, oh yes I did - I refused to iron my jeans. It's sad that my major act of rebellion in my youth is all about pressing and steaming.

My favourite house cleaning activity is vacuuming. I enjoy it, it is actually relaxing and a bit of a workout at the same time. I take umbrage with people who refer to it as "passing the vacuum". In my opinion, "vacuum" is a verb. Yes, it is a noun that describes the necessary machinery, but the act is very definitely more than just "passing" the vacuum. I mean, people don't say they are going to "pass the lawnmower", do they? If you don't work up a bit of a sweat, you aren't doing it right! We have a dog, and there is dog hair, so I vacuum more than the average person. Before we had kids, I used to vacuum almost every day. Now, it's every other or every third (we also have hardwood, and the husband prefers to Swiffer, so it just depends who gets the tumbleweeds of hair and dust first). For my mother, vacuuming is also a verb. She does it every day, sometimes twice a day. And we're talking using attachments every day (I'm a little more lax in the attachment department). I remember when I was a teenager and she would vacuum at 8 am on Saturday mornings, bumping my door as she'd clean the carpet in the hall. It drove me nuts - couldn't it wait an hour or so? I think part of it was also to get me out of bed - she's not big on sleeping in. That may be why I am the one who vacuums at our house. I don't mind if the husband does it, but I can't be home - the sound of the vacuum cleaner running is like fingernails on a chalkboard unless I'm the one operating it. Lately, though, the idea of the Roomba is somewhat seductive. If I could be certain that it wouldn't terrify our neurotic dalmatian, who is already afraid of the vacuum, I'd pick one up. Although, I'm starting to think that it would be worth the trembling dog to get a Scooba. Wouldn't it be bliss to have your floor freshly washed - without having to do it yourself? (Okay, I admit, the husband does the kitchen floor more than I , but I'm the one who washes the hardwood. And there's more hardwood.)

Then there are the bathrooms. I clean the bathrooms, my husband cleans the bathrooms, and overall we manage quite well. The sink gets cleaned the most - toothpaste and shaving whiskers get taken care of daily. Don't even get me started on the amount of cleaning we do in the kids' bathroom - they think toothpaste is an art medium, and the sink and counter are their canvas (a PEA sized amount of toothpaste. PEA, not GRAPE!! ARGH!!!). The toilets are frequently scrubbed, particularly in the ensuite. That "Fresh Shower" spray is a great invention - just spray after showering and it keeps the shower stall clean. And the tub. My tub gets cleaned about twice or three times per week. I soak in it every night. The kids' tub gets cleaned a couple of times a week as well. I draw the line at my mother's method, however. I refuse to get out of the tub smelling like whatever lovely bath products I have soaped and soaked with, put on matching lotion. . . and then clean the tub with bleach-y cleaner. So I then smell like bleach. Yet this is exactly what my mother does. Wouldn't it make more sense to wait and clean the tub before your next bath, if you feel the need to have it clean to bathe? Oh no, then it would remain dirty for 23 hours, and that can't be allowed!

I realized that I truly was a neat freak on Aug 23, 1992. My husband (fiancé at the time) and I had arrived back at my apartment in Miami after I had been home for the summer. Unfortunately, Hurricane Andrew was planning on arriving later that night. We made some preparations, such as filling all my pitchers and bowls with water, moving the furniture away from the windows, and making the bed. I hadn't been at my apartment for several months, and it was a bit dusty, so I began to clean. When the husband asked what I was doing, I told him that I was cleaning because if something happened, I wouldn't want anyone to think that I kept a dirty apartment. As the words were coming out of my mouth, I realized how ridiculous I sounded. Really, if something happened, there would be water and leaves and mud and rubble and shattered glass everywhere. No one would know or care that my apartment wasn't immaculate. Since then, I have tried to curb my obsessively clean tendencies, armed with the knowledge that I am far less neurotic about it than my mother. I think I have succeeded, and here's the proof.

Last night my parents, my husband, and I were sitting and chatting in the family room. They are here visiting for birthday celebrations, and to spend time with their grandkids. My mother began to talk about my childhood after I jokingly said something about ironing. I knew part of this - that when I was little (old enough to play outside, young enough for naps - 2?), while I napped, she would wash the outfit I had worn in the morning, and it would be hanging out to dry, then ironed and put away on the same day. What I hadn't known before - she would clean my little white boots - twice a day. And WASH the shoelaces once a day. Wash.The.Shoelaces. Really. She wasn't kidding - I asked. So, vacuuming every other day? Doesn't seem quite as insane* now, does it?

*not to imply that my mother is in any way insane - she just cleans a lot. What sucks is that she used to clean my baseboards when she would visit, but since we had the kids, she does stuff with them instead. And my baseboards (mostly) stay dusty.