Because It’s My Heritage

I’m on Day Three of the YeeHaw Mamaw Cleaning Spree, and while I would love to be able to tell you that I’m almost finished, the fact of the matter is that I’ve barely hit the tip of the iceberg. I have wiped down my kitchen until it shines and dusted all the baseboards on one end of the house. I’ve mopped all the hardwood floors and vacuumed all of my rugs.

And I might be patting myself on the back if it weren’t for the fact that I haven’t changed the first sheet, cleaned the guest bathroom or caught up on laundry.

(And just FYI: none of those things will be getting done tonight because Dancing With The Stars comes on, and JOEY FATONE NEEDS MY SUPPORT, y’all.)

But tomorrow? I will tackle this house like a linebacker. Oh yes I will.

I know it’s probably hard for some people to understand why a visit from my mama would throw me into a flat-out cleaning frenzy – and I can see how you might think, “Relax, missy – it’s your mother, after all, and she’ll understand that you have a four year old whose toys seem to multiply daily and who doesn’t necessarily, um, aim with accuracy when he goes to the restroom. She’ll understand that you just moved a few months ago and may not have everything perfectly organized.”

And yes, that is true. She totally understands those things.

But she is also the Queen of Clean: the woman who has never left a dish in the sink overnight, never had to re-wash a load of clothes because she forgot that they were in the washer for, oh, a day or four, never gone more than a week without changing the sheets on all the beds.

So somehow, in the days leading up to her visits, I find myself trying to balance my desire for everything to look perfect – because I grew up in a house where everything looked perfect ALL THE TIME – with my complete inability to keep the house clean for more than approximately sixteen seconds at a time.

In retrospect, I have no idea how Mama kept such a clean house. Granted, she didn’t have the internet or Wii or TiFaux to distract her from the tasks at hand, but she did have three children, and she also cooked three hot meals a day.

So I’m starting to think that she had magical powers. Or at least a friend with some magical powers.

Or perhaps a small wizard in the basement.

I mean, even Mama’s laundry room is decorated, and lest you think I’m kidding, I offer you photographic evidence:

In addition, there is a runner and a small stereo system there (IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM) – I guess you never know when you’ll want to Shout! out some pesky grass stains while standing barefooted on an Oriental-style rug and listening to the smooth, soulful sounds of today’s hottest jazz tunes.

So while I don’t think I can get a window treatment with fringe made by tomorrow night – and while I doubt I’ll be accessorizing my laundry room with a lamp, candles, a runner and a STEREO – hopefully I’ll have everything looking clean and pretty within the next twenty-four hours.

But if there’s a small wizard in your basement who could help me out, feel free to send him on over.