Random Introspection

My dad would fall back on stucco and construction whenever he was in between jobs. My grandfather had one of the largest construction companies in Las Vegas and he taught all his sons the trade. Whenever my dad fell back into stucco, he would bring his older kids along sometimes to tape off windows or my personal favorite, to scrape cement off foundations. To this day I don't like it if my hands touch stuff that gives them a dry floury feeling similar to cement dust.

My dad had this big mixer that he'd pull behind his truck. If he had enough energy after one of his jobs, he'd pull the mixer into the driveway and spray it out. This created a muddy river of sludge that flowed down to the gutter. It would dry chalk-like over our driveway and on down the street. Sometimes, in a moment of bad judgment, the mixer would get sprayed out on the lawn forming sludgy spots and then dead grass spots. If he didn't have enough energy, he'd make one of us spray it out or if he forgot to assign the job that night, we'd get the job of banging out the mixer with a hammer the next day. This was a grueling job that created cement rocks, pebbles and dust flying all over the place. Having cement in different forms all over our front yard was embarrassing for me. I personally took on the job of front yard cement removal. I'd sweep the driveway almost daily. It became an obsession for me. Get rid of the rocks. Get rid of the dust. I could feel my anxiety melt away as I finished each thorough sweeping.

The sweeping was one of the ways I took control in my life. I did things like this all throughout my childhood though I didn't know what drove me. My mom made me a bedspread to go on the bed I inherited from her. Starting at the age of 5 or 6 and for a few years after that I wouldn't sleep under the bedspread because I didn't want to make it messy. Instead I would sleep with a baby blanket on top of it. I thought I was clever because I didn't have to pull and tug the blanket each morning to make it and I always had a tidy bed.

My form of playing was to take my dolls and reposition them rather than to actually play with them. My dolls looked basically new all the time because they never did anything other than stand in new ways on a shelf. My daughter Lou actually enjoys her toys and I can tell because they are dressed and re-dressed, painted with nail polish, drug through the yard, pulled around in a wagon, pushed in a swing and loved to dirty death. I sense that Lou is more secure in her world than I was in mine.

I kept my room very clean until I got baby sisters. Kassi is 8 years younger than I and she didn't understand the importance (to me) of having an orderly room. She continually upset my world and since I was older I always cleaned up after her until I put duct tape down and divided our room. One side (mine) was immaculate and the other side (hers) looked like a tornado had touched down. She then started playing (mess-making) on my side and when I'd question her why? why? why? she said her side was too messy.

When I was older and my brothers left home for college and missions I got my own room again. My room was my private haven where the bed was always made and clothes were usually put away. When my brothers and sisters would lounge in my room talking, I'd try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that came from the invasion.

Just as I had self-appointed myself driveway duty, I also would also appoint myself extra duties around the house. Mainly I chucked shoes, backpacks, jackets and socks down the stairs toward my brother's rooms. I would try to take on the whole house and all the chaos created by seven kids and a working mother.

I still do all these things. I used to sweep the drive way and porch repetitively until I got smart and asked David to buy me a leaf blower. Now I blow the pebbles, leaves, and dust into oblivion. I sleep under my covers now but the first thing I want to do when I get out of bed is make it. I am guilty of thinking that David didn't do anything if he didn't make the bed on the days when I leave for work before he wakes. Sometimes after work I can't do anything (like smile) until I've put my home world back together. I still chuck stuff down the stairs that the kids bring upstairs and I still take on the whole house preferably by myself.

But to my credit, I'm aware of what drives me. Cleaning my home is in my sphere of influence and one thing I can control (or try to). When my home isn't clean, it is like my world is out of kilter. Cleaning massages my anxiety and sets it at bay. It's not really about cleaning. It's about anxiety. Because I am aware of what motivated me then and now I can work on it. I tell myself "let it go" or "it can wait until morning" or "it's no big deal".

Letting the house take a thrashing and shrugging it off with a smile is on my to do list. I want to shuck off the Martha mold I was born of. (Luke 10:38-42)