Cleaning Up

My son’s willingness to help clean up — the kitchen, the bathroom, the entry — or any other area in the apartment I am renting — continues to surprise me. And delight me! Even more so — his near-magical capacity for creative organizational problem-solving in challenging spaces.

Let’s hear it for the emergence of awesome young adults from their once awkward and ornery adolescence!

From quirky corners to unreachable shelves to overrun desks — I know, right? — my 20-something’s attitude and aptitude are most welcome, particularly since cleaning and straightening were abhorrent just a few years ago, and those memories remain indelible.

Like most kids, my young one’s response to “pick up your room!” was sullen, sarcastic, or silent, characterized by turning a deaf ear (or an acquiescent-while-still-rebellious grin) until his mess (and my tolerance for it) inched into the red zone.

Gone are those days! And following my many hours of cooking (for the holiday) in a teeny-tiny (very old) kitchen on an untested (very small, 1960s (?)) stove he happily helped with clean-up, which allowed me to retire to a reclining position and rest my weary limbs. Better still, even as I’m writing this, he is working his way through two areas of a living room that flows into a dining room where my post-move boxes remain a headache — um, make that “challenge” — that I cannot seem to resolve.

Oh, the joys of a beautiful old building with elegant details and little to no storage (and that teeny-tiny kitchen)! (Oh, the frustration of a chaotic and constraining closet…)

Now, my firstborn (currently in Europe) used to chide me ruthlessly about my “stuff,” accusing me of hoarding tendencies on more than one occasion. (I confess to an excess of art books, high heels, and chairs of all sizes… despite my repeated efforts at downsizing.)

Happily, I periodically avail myself of the ample assist of my younger son whose proximity enables him to help from time to time. And he is well aware of my diminutive stature (five feet on a Tall Hair Day), my compromised wingspan (remnants of shoulder injuries), and the fact that I rely heavily on visual mapping to feel oriented, settled, and effective in my living space that doubles as my workspace.

My solution on this long weekend, for the time my kiddo is here and appears unfazed by the eccentricities of this space (not to mention the eccentricities of his mother)… Give this wondrous young man all the license he might wish when it comes to proposing and executing his organizational strategies.

And in a cloud of seasonal gratitude, I am equally appreciative of his remarkable good nature (and fine eye for hanging my funky art). I sometimes wonder where it comes from, considering how cranky I was (more often than I care to admit) when he and his brother were growing up. I cannot help but ponder how my son has changed: once so impossible to decipher, making parenting worrisome at times, and now, an extraordinary source of hands-on kindness and support.

Your cleaning and organizing challenges? Your surprise as your kiddos grow into responsible, compassionate, helpful adults? Your post-holiday headaches if the dishes are piled up in the sink with no one but you willing to wash them?

You May Also Enjoy

• The Comforting Psychology of Mess

• Hoarder? Pas Moi. But Don’t Touch My Stuff!

• The Visual Map

• Painting Over