Occasional Scribbles

I have a tiny confession to make.  I’ve been very slack lately with the house cleaning and there is one room that has not been touched in eight months.  Yep, I know, I should be awarded a bad mummy prize and give myself a thorough dressing down and a hearty slap on the wrist at the very least.

There are some mitigating circumstances.  The room in question is the Elder Teens. I think that probably says it all doesn’t it really?  The Elder Teen is one of the messiest Teens going.  When he left here all those months ago, there were only two things I asked him to do; one was to pack his own suitcase for his trip and the other was to clean and tidy his room before he left.  I afterall, had gone through the entire process of getting him his visa and work permit for New Zealand, sorted out his passport and taken him miles away for a medical that could only be carried out by certain certified GP’s, taken him for a chest xray and generally done EVERYTHING to get him ready to leave, all at no small financial cost to say the least.

But something came over him in those last days.  A sort of blind mist dropped before his eyes.  He wondered around like a lost puppy, hanging on to his friends until the last minute, when I finally chucked them out for fear of them stowing away in one of his bags, so reluctant were they to let him go.  Some days I caught him staring into space pensively and although I knew he wanted to go away, I knew he was sad to be going and didn’t like to hassle him too much. The days flew by and he even left his packing until the very last minute which drove me round the bend.  And so the day arrived and as he packed his bags into the car to go to the airport, I shut the door on the bombsite that was his bedroom, never to go in there again.  Well almost.

There have been quite a few times when I’ve almost dared to enter the Teens lair.  After he left and I had got over my anger that he managed to get away without clearing it up, I almost did it myself but somehow I always managed to put it off.  Then not too long ago, the younger Teen decided he’d like to move into it as his room is tiny and he wanted more space.  He opened the door to his brother’s room, stood on the threshold and backed out again in disgust.  “I’ve changed my mind” he said gloomily to me and I promised to empty all the contents and give it a proper spring clean.

But I didn’t.  And now The Elder Teen is coming home on Saturday and the room has reared it’s ugly head again.  I was half tempted to leave it exactly as it was left all those months ago but anxious to start off on the right foot and make him feel welcome, despite his errant behaviour that has led to his return, the inevitable is upon me.  What lurks inside?  What will I find hiding under the bed, behind the wardrobe, let alone amongst all the piles of clothes, lone grubby socks, old rugby kit that should have been washed and put away months ago?

It’s not an inviting prospect and I’ve sucessfully put it off for days.  The younger Teen, seeing my reluctance, offered to help me.  “I’ll help you after school today, we’ll do it together if you like” he kindly offered.  “Will you really, I just can’t face it you know” I said in desperation yesterday.  But when I picked him up outside school, he’d forgotten his earlier good will and had made arrangements to meet up with a friend.  I was quite crushed at this news and mentioned the room.  “I will do it, Mum, not just not tonight” he says rushing to get changed out of his uniform. “When?” I whisper up the staircase after him dejectedly.

Tonight’s the night.  Yep.  Tonight I will go into the vile, untidy mess armed with industrial strength cleaning materials and heavy duty yellow rubber gloves with a face mask and peg on my nose to boot.  If you never hear from me again, you will know I have been swallowed up at the gates of hell.  Or.  Have been struck down by a mystery Teen room full of unimaginable germs and horrors!