Tuesday, November 13, 2012
The pondering inspired by a made-up bed.
I probably haven't made my bed more than ten times - if that many - in the five years since I left my mother's house. I would say that averages about twice per year, but that's a lie. In the two and a half years I've been living with my husband, I think I've made the bed twice. Just twice. The other three times happened in the nine months I was with a control freak. The guy before that didn't care any more than I did.
In fact, I can't remember more than a dozen times in the 16 years I *WAS* living with my mom that I actually made my bed. From what I remember, it was about (but a little bit less than) once a year. The bed got made twice a year. Once, maybe, when my mom bribed or threatened me to do it ("If you don't make that bed, we'll leave you home when we go to dinner tonight!"). A second time when she opened my door to give me laundry.
"Laurana! When was the last time you cleaned this room? I can't even *see* the floor! That's it, I'm tired of it, you have thirty minutes, and then I'm coming in here with a garbage bag!"
Which was usually followed by about 30 seconds of cleaning and then 29 minutes of playing with whatever toy I'd found when I picked the first shirt up off the floor. Or, if I couldn't find a toy, several five-minute spurts of kind of cleaning broken up by five minute spurts of "I have to pee...I need a drink....I'm hungry..." I think you moms know this story.
Which meant mom came in with the garbage bag, and the bed got made that night.
But I didn't make it.
Nope, I think in the sixteen years of living with my mom, it's a very real possibility that I made my own bed less than once a year.
Who made the bed all those other times?
Well, with the exception of the times I bribed, tricked, or otherwise coerced one of my siblings to do it (that's what they're there for, right?) - probably mom. I'm sure she'll be sainted one day for raising me. I was certainly a pill.
That fact makes this show pretty impressive. Not only did I make my bed today, but I *cleaned the room*...without prompting. Well, almost. There were a few verbal nudges from my husband. He's also going to be sainted, just for having to live here. (haha)
But is that what people see when they look at this? Just looking at the picture, and trying to be detached about it, I think it kindof looks like nobody lives here. The bed's made up, but the walls are bare. There's no real signs of life - much less married life - in this room
Not that I'm encouraging you to post evidence of your married life as pertaining to the bedroom. Keep it where it belongs.
But I look at these pictures, which I took so I could share with you the story about how I never make my bed, and I wonder what other people will think when they look at them. People, maybe, who don't know me.
Which makes me wonder, what would people think if someone just took snapshots of my life on the days when my room isn't clean, and my bed isn't made? What would people think of my life if snapshots of the day to day were posted on the internet?
I'm on a mission to make sure whatever it is they think of me when they see those snapshots of my life is positive. I'm on a mission to make "No regrets" my testimony. To make sure that when my kids find my profile on an old site, that I'm not going to turn red explaining something to them, or having to say "oh, I was a kid, and I was dumb..."
I don't have kids yet, but - and forgive me if this sounds bad - the older my parents get, the more I realize that I need to plan now for when I do have kids. I need to start developing the habits that I want them to have, and getting rid of the ones that I don't want them to have. And that includes a lot of thinking, even about what I post on the internet.
You never know, when you post something, what other people are going to think about it. But you can sometimes guess.
If you post pictures of you with alcohol, people are going to think you're a drunk. If you post pictures of you scantily clad, they'll think you're a slut. If you post pictures of you helping a charity, they'll either think you're a nice gal - or that you're showing off.
You can't please everyone, and I'm not saying that you can or that you should try. But what will your kids think when they see that picture? Will they be embarrassed to be your kid, embarrassed to see what you just posted, ashamed and disappointed by your choices? Or will they be proud of you?
And probably more important: When your kids copy the way you live, will you be proud to say "I taught them that!" Or will you be ashamed of them?