Cherry Jubilee


There are a lot of things I would rather be doing than scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees at 8:00am, but this morning I didn’t have much of a choice.  As I was heading into the kitchen to get some coffee my foot stuck to the floor and made a sick tearing sound as I pulled it back up.  From out of the blue, my 5 year old appears and says, “I don’t know what that is, but I am pretty sure it is not cherry juice.”  Hmmmm…..now I am pretty sure it is cherry juice and trying to be a good detective I start looking around.  Ah, I see cherry stems on the table and a sad attempt to mop up the juice that has spilled pretty much everywhere.  She has a thing for cherries lately and I am guessing the glass jar was too much for her to open on her own, I am thankful that it didn’t fall to the floor and break.  Yeah, I am pretty sure this isn’t cherry juice just like I am pretty sure my brain is still fully functional after having two kids.

 

“Mom, can you hurry up and clean the floor so you can make us pancakes?”  Are you shitting me?  I have a toothbrush and sponge and I am trying to scrub the juice out of the creases in the hardwood so we don’t wind up with ants, let me jump right up and make you breakfast.  There were spots of red everywhere and I had to really scrub to get that sickly syrup off.   Having my 5 year old stand behind me and continually point out the spots I have missed or not yet gotten to was making me extra happy this morning.  “Mom, you missed some.  Mom, there’s a spot over there.  Mom, you’re not getting all of it.  Mom the vinegar you use to clean smells terrible.”  I will never hurt my children, but I can almost understand why people resort to child abuse.  Well, not really, but I felt steam coming off of my head and wanted to scream.

 

The floor is disgusting, as I am crawling underneath the table to get to the juice that leaked through the cracks I find enough crumbs to fill up the Grand Canyon.  Every time I wipe some away, more appear.  In my old life I used to design incentive plans and such and while I no longer get paid for what I do I came up with an incentive to try to keep the crumbs off the floor.  I am thinking every meal with no crumbs under the table will result in a quarter and some type of pyramid to up the ante for each day it stays that way.  I am ready to consider a trip to Disney if it stays that way for a week.

 

I ask the kids to stay off the floor while it finishes drying and of course they have to respond to every request I make with the all famous ‘Why’.  It’s never enough just to make the request, I am always expected to provide details on why they should do what I, THE ADULT, asked.  “Well, I am pretty sure that the red stuff all over your feet is not blood and is indeed cherry juice.  I would prefer not to mop again in fifteen minutes and need you to stay off the damn floor!”

 

“Mom, what are we going to do today?”  Hang on, let me get our Activity Director and find out.  Oh, that’s me and guess what?  I am mopping the floor, followed by scrubbing your feet and then starting a load of laundry to try to soak that cherry juice out of your pajamas.  After that I am hoping that one of you shit up the bathroom or sneak a bowl of Goldfish crackers upstairs so I have more to clean.

 

Now that my floor is so darn clean, I realize how terrible the rest of the kitchen looks, so I guess I should get off the computer and finish cleaning so it can be messed up again.  I need an incentive program for myself, however it needs to go in a continuous circle (just like my chores).  Start it, finish it, start it again.  Life is bliss!

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