Just me and the wildlife

"Look at that! Were you raised in a barn??"

It was a favoured outburst of my paternal grandmother, and it irritated the living poop out of my mother, who took it as a shot at both her parenting and her house-keeping.

Grandma had a point, mind you, which probably only made her comment grate all the more. In icily unsentimental honesty, my mother's house-keeping could most charitably be described as... 'relaxed'. Her children were her top priority. Spending time with us was far more important to her than spending time with a mop or a dishcloth.

I have a similar child-rearing philosophy, but far less tolerance for clutter and disarray. My housekeeping is hardly Better Homes and Gardens calibre, but as far as my mother is concerned, she has, to her puzzlement, managed to raise a neat freak.

Neat freak I'm not, but I am reasonably methodical, which is how I came to wake one night to the sound of dripping water. Not a leaking faucet, not a dripping toilet. Much closer than the bathroom or kitchen. My bleary eyes revealed the cat, sitting on my bedside table, licking water off her paw. Water which dripped, tap, tap, tap, onto the table beside me. Water which had come from the glass I set there each evening, should I wake with a dry mouth in the night.

And the big question: How many times has she done this, and I had no idea? Bleah.

My bedside table cup now has a lid.

Barring hygiene ambush, however, the house is decently clean, clutter is kept to a reasonable level, and things have their places. They may not always (or in the case of shoes and socks, ever) be in those places, but they can be put where they belong in short order -- very often in the time it takes between noticing the car pulling into the drive and the knock at the door. So. Not pristine, not show-quality, but essentially clean and reasonably ordered.

Which is why I sometimes feel my mother's puzzlement as I stare at one or another of my children, and hear my grandmother's words ringing in my ears.

"Was that kid raised in a BARN?"

It's a three-generation experience, every time.

Remember the Ugly Boots? Well, they are being worn, but only on the coldest of days, and never when she has a ride to school. On those occasions, she wears the cute little pair of black suede boots she bought herself. Uninsulated, of course. They're for cute, not for warmth. Sigh. Moreover, they're suede.

Suede, of course, picks up road salt like nobody's business. And black suede shows the white salt marks in bald relief.

What she needs, of course, is a suede brush. We don't have one. So what she's been doing is taking a cleaning rag (there is a box of them on a shelf under the kitchen sink), getting it damp, and giving the boots a scrub.

That's what I thought she was doing, anyway.

Until last night, when we happened to be chatting in the kitchen, so I was right there watching as she lifted a damp dishcloth from where it hangs over the faucet, and commence to scrub at her boot. With the dishcloth. With which we wash dishes. You know, the ones we eat off.

Ugh. Was this kid raised in a BARN???

I didn't say that yet, though, because I was curious. Appalled, but curious. How bad was this? Would she clean her boots and then toss the cloth in the laundry, or would she...

Oh.

Oh, no.

In the sink. Right in the sink, where, had I not just seen what I'd seen, I'd have used it after the next meal. To clean our dishes. The ones we, you know, EAT FROM.

A BARN! My daugher was raised in a BARN! All this time I thought I was raising her, but evidently, I was wrong. She's been raised by savages. In a barn.

And the big question: How many times has she done this, and I had no idea? Bleah.

I think I'll eat with the pets. Their bowls are probably cleaner. And I know the cat keeps her paws clean...

Comments

[Robyn]

Ew!

Tell her vinegar is just the thing for salt marks (it is, so you won't be lying). Then at least you'll smell it on the cloth!

[Zayna]

Bahahahaha, how many times have I heard that expression...how many times have I used it? Let me count the ways.

The worst was the first time Son cleaned the bathroom by himself. (If you don't count the 40 minute lesson - ONLY THREE DAYS EARLIER - on how to clean the bathroom properly.)

An hour or so later, I walked into the bathroom to find the rag he had used to clean the toilet splayed across the counter top...next to the toothbrushes.

Barn would have been halfway civilized, I was thinking wolves at that point.

Ewwwwwww!

Needless to say, I cleaned the bathroom myself and everyone got new toothbrushes.

[Nicci]

Oh I can beat that. My HUSBAND, that's right HUSBAND, not a child used our dish sponge to clean the toilet. Then tossed it back in the sink. If I hadn't seen him walking out of the bathroom with the sponge and asked him after he threw it in the sink what he had done with it (I had a good idea)I would totally have used it to do dishes. I almost threw up. Yuck.
I got him back by telling my MIL. She was pretty horrified.

[Ilona]

Robyn: You're brilliant! I'd done some googling and discovered the vinegar, but I hadn't told her yet, and I absolutely hadn't thought that it would tell me which cloth she'd used. HA!

Zayna: At least he didn't leave it lying ON the toothbrushes!! No? Not good enough? Good thing toothbrushes aren't expensive...

Nicci: EEEEEEEEWWWWW! I'm not a hugely squeamish person, but, but, but... EEEEEEEEWWWW!

[Daisy]

I'm still laughing at the cat! Cats are fairly clean animals, unlike us humans.

[the planet of janet]

i dont know whether to laugh or barf.

[Ilona]

Daisy: Agreed, though we all know where those paws get, at least a couple of times a day.

Janet: It's hard to laugh while barfing, and probably painful, so I'd go for laughter. :-)

[Merrilee Faber]

Laughing so hard, so very hard :D

[Ilona]

Merrilee: Welcome to MCMM! And so happy to know I added a good laugh to your day.