Well, it is with no great surprise that I tell you that Avery spent the night at a friends house last night. I knew a couple of days ago that she would find a way to high tail it out of here. When she got the call (to spend the night) yesterday afternoon, I really mulled it over. Her room was still looking like a crash site and I wanted to stand my ground about getting it picked up. I mean if you are going to set a standard that she has to pick up her room shouldn't you stick to it?
I gave in...OK, I totally caved. I kept thinking how bored she would be here at home, since I had friends of my own coming over. I did still set the expectation that she get her room picked up before she left for her friends house, if for no other reason then being able to find things that she needed to take along with her on the sleepover.
This morning, (as I waited for my sacred coffee to brew) I realized that Avery's soccer uniform was probably dirty since she just had a game two days ago. Since I am working towards perfect mothering I decided that I would go in her room and get her uniform out of her laundry and wash it for her. This is the spot in the movies where you watch the victim go into the room and you are yelling, "NO NO, don't go in there!" To late. I went in and thought, "the room does not look that great, I am going to have to talk to Avery about this." Then I opened her closet to get the uniform out of the laundry, actually it was more like I pried the door open. I could not believe my eyes. I had just discovered the Bermuda Triangle of our home! Everything came pouring out, shoes, socks, clothes, pillows, slipper (note: the other slipper is still missing), underwear, belts, body wash, the list is to long to continue, but you get the point.
As I looked around the room I felt like a fool. How could I have fallen for this? I am not a stupid person, yet here I was standing in the middle of this mess, once again! I started yanking everything out of the closet. First, so that I could find the soccer uniform, (no use not completing my task) and second, to shock the heck out of Avery when she walks in there. Something tells me I am going to have a very angry girl later this morning.
My Mother-in-law has assured me that later in life she will clean up her act, and I know that I had "the messies" when I was younger too, but right now it concerns me. Can this child be helped? Is it time for an intervention? No, no intervention, but probably a short conversation about how I risked my life to get to her uniform. I might even play the "absolutely no fun until this room is picked up" card. But as you know now, I will fold like a deck of cards when the phone rings and one of her friends is calling. Perhaps, her messy room is not as big a deal as I make it, but if you tell her I said that, I will deny it!
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