Читать книгу Raising Able - Susan Tordella - Страница 9

You know the only people who are always sure about

the proper way to raise children? Those who’ve never had any.

Bill Cosby

The gray hue on the thirty-five windows of our house cast pallor on the sunniest days, so I called an informal family meeting in the middle of spring break.

“We’re going to clean the windows together today and one of you can clean four carpets.”

Casey, 16, and Noah, 14, immediately and emphatically said, “No!” Ian, 12, and Kristen, 9, said nothing.

“You need to adjust your attitude towards work,” I said.

All four of them regularly did dishes, mowed the lawn, helped with cooking, and cleaned house. All I wanted was four hours or so of focused labor. Five times four equaled twenty hours of work and clean windows and carpets.

“I’ll clean the rugs,” Casey volunteered, and set off to set up the shampooer. Choosing one’s task gives a modicum of control, and she, like me, enjoys being in control. With her working independently, that left two teams of two and reduced the potential for conflict.

Noah and Ian started on the second floor windows using the extension ladder. The challenge of being perched twenty feet up thrilled them and terrorized me. When I helped Ian moved the ladder to the second window, it teetered and crashed to the ground. We jumped out of the way, relieved to be safe.

“Watch out! You have to be more careful. Hold it straight upright while we’re moving it!” I said, my voice thick with worry and angst.

“Mom, you need to adjust your attitude,” said Ian. Noah chimed in from the window above.

I realized the gangly ladder was difficult to control. The crash provided a warning. Humbly, I adjusted my attitude.

Kristen and I made a good team. She was young enough to get lost in the Zen of the task. She reminded me to be present in the squirting, wiping and appreciating the results. Her cleaning endurance was not as magnanimous as her disposition. She washed quite a few windows for her age with the fewest complaints and least conflict. She liked being part of the team.

I enjoyed working with her, between interruptions.

When cleaning the living room windows, we saw stuffed animals raining down outside from her bedroom above. Mock screams could be heard.

“They’re throwing my stuffed animals out the window!” Kristen yelled as we ran upstairs to halt the havoc. I stifled a smile and gently reprimanded the boys.

Back to work. The boys and I gingerly moved the precarious ladder to the five high windows out back. It felt like a circus balancing act. Secretly, I was glad they were willing to work on the ladder, a benign way to flex testosterone and take risks, essential in the transition from boy to man.

Kristen and I moved to the dining room. I went upstairs to check on Casey’s progress on the carpets and something caught my eye in the bathroom.

Ian was squirting the Waterpic (attached to the faucet) at Noah, perched on the ladder outside, two stories up. I put a stop to Ian’s assault and gave another safety lecture. They were pushing the limits. I kept the lecture short, stern and to the point. A fall from twenty-five feet up could be devastating. They brushed me off, believing as teens do, that they’re immortal.

Casey made steady, solo peaceful progress on the carpets.

We broke for lunch, barely halfway done. Over the years, the children taught me to take frequent breaks to recharge. More breaks meant more time to finish, however, more breaks might give them more energy to work longer. Emphasis on might. Outnumbered, I surrendered to their pace. We cranked up the stereo and went back to work.

Kristen and I were in the front of the house when the sound of breaking glass pierced the air. It sounded like a picture window shattered. I dashed into the kitchen where the extension ladder had pierced two small window panes and thought, perhaps I expected too much from them to handle the extension ladder.

No one was hurt. Bob could easily repair the windows on Saturday. He was at work and escaped the tumult of window-washing.

I began to wear out and wondered how much a professional window washing service would have cost. We finished the windows, which were fairly clean, and put everything away. I pulled some leftovers from the freezer for dinner and collapsed. It was several years before I could find the strength, time and energy for a family window cleaning day.