Where can I turn for peace......

.....and I think we all know the answer to that but I decided that until I had some "order" I would never be able to find true "peace" so I tackled a couple of rooms that were in need of some attention....and I'm here to say, it has really helped. I thought of a little piece I wrote a few years back that I want to include here on my blog...just a bit of a disclaimer; it's long, and I don't know who reads my blog, but you probably won't appreciate this,however, I'm about ready to put my blog to a book again and I want this in there; my motivation for cleaning my house (it doesn't hit very often but when it does) it's because of "My Mother's House":

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"My house is a house of order......." D&C 132:8. March 29, 2005. I had a few minutes today and I didn't feel like going home so I stopped by to see my mom. She wasn't home and usually I would just see that the car was gone and then head home but today I used my key and went inside. I couldn't help but just stand there in awe at how much "the same" her house always is; spotless, perfectly clean and everything meticulously placed on the shelves and in order. Her house truly is a house of order and I decided to sit for a while and bask in the cleanliness as my house is just the opposite. I also couldn't help but wonder why I'm so different. Cleaning is her hobby, order her motto and service her legacy. Messiness is me, disorderliness my signature and procrastination my downfall. I like a clean house, that's why I enjoyed hers so much today. I just don't like the process of cleaning so I've gotten used to living in chaos. I want to change though. Being in my mom's house always inspires me, but it only lasts until I shut her door behind me and enter my own. I get to my own home and realize there's no hope and just resign myself to living in my mess. I opened her clean refrigerator and rummaged through her "neat as a pin" drawers and found some Cinnamon Bears to eat. They were there in the top, left drawer where they always are because my mom always puts them there. That's something the kids can count on. That's what my mom stands for, consistency. Someone that her children and grandchildren (and now great grandchildren) can count on to be there and to give them whatever they need whether it be Cinnamon Bears in the top, left drawer, Count Chocula in the big, middle drawer and always milk in the refrigerator, cake on Sunday night, potatoe salad at the picnic and money in the birthday card.

There wasn't a spot of water in her sink so after I got a drink of water, I used a paper towel to wipe up the drops so she couldn't tell I'd been there. I went into the spare bedroom and started to thinking about my childhood and what it was like when my brothers inhabited that room and it was then I realized that I really didn't remember much about my brothers. Then I walked into my old room and remembered the time I shared it with my sister. Man, what a small space for two little girls. I have good memories though of sharing a small double bed and drawing an imaginary line down the middle and threatening her if she crossed the line and touched my feet. Or maybe it was her that threatened me but I do remember hot summer nights, depending on a cup of ice on the floor by the bed to keep me cool in the night and opening the window and challenging my sis to run down the street and pick me a rose without getting caught. I remember lying in bed playing guessing games as we tried to fall aslseep. I remember after leaving home, always looking forward to returning to that room, going through the drawers of saved memorabilia, reminiscing times passed and loved always having a safe place to land.

I went into the tiny main bathroom and looked in the mirror and remembered the days I would stand there for hours experimenting with new hairdos. I couldn't help but wonder with all the time I spent there, how was it that all of us shared that bathroom. There was one other small bathroom but that main one seemed to be only mine as I remember long, soaking baths and lots of hours learning to do my hair. The mirror shined and I tried to remember what mom used to put in those little tiny drawers that lined both sides of the bottom cabinet. The towels were still three-folded neatly in the main cupboard and I tried to find her "Evening in Paris" perfume that dad always kept her supplied with because it was his favorite. I still fold my towels the same, once in half then three folded the wide way. That's the way they fit the best on the shelf but to me, it's just the way you fold a towel.

I peeked into Mom's room. So elegant, so fancy. When did mom get "fancy"? I don't remember my house being so fancy while I was growing up. I don't remember it ever being that clean but I'm sure it was. I remember on Sundays, when we were all home, it would be a bit messy but it only took picking up the Sunday paper and straightening a rug or two to get it back to the usual order but I don't remember doing any of those things. My mom did them. I remember her trying to get us to do jobs but we never really had to do much. She always told me I would be sorry one day that I didn't learn to work, but she never really made me do it. She always allowed me time to be a kid and when I got older, I always had time to enjoy school and friends, all the "kid" things. Maybe I am sorry that I didn't learn to do housework but something tells me that it's not a matter of learning how to do it. I know how to do it; I just don't like to. I know I spent many hours trying to figure out how to make my kids like it. Job jars, work charts, anything and everything to get help around the house. It all boiled down to getting them to do the jobs I hated the most and the two that came out on top in the end, when all was said and done, was emptying the dishwasher and taking out the garbage. I'm not sure there is any way to get kids to like housework but I know it's important to let them learn how to do it.

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April 21, 2009 - I'm reading this, so many years later and wondering how I ever really intended to end it. I'll just say, I still don't like housework but my kids seem to be just fine. Their houses are all neat and tidy (most of the time). I would rather knit or read than clean and so I have to make "deals" with myself to get things done like, I can't knit until the kitchen is clean, etc. etc....but like I said, I like a clean house. Every Sunday night when I visit my mom and bask in the cleanliness of her rooms, I come home re-committed to be better at taking care of my home. It lasts about 2 minutes until I see my knitting basket and then I make another "compromise" with myself,..."I'll do it tomorrow...."