... where family is the source of humor!

Unkempt Teen Room Parental Intervention by Carol Wells

Carol's mother occassionally shared a side which wouldn't have her regarded as the "Most Patient Woman". Only so many times "Later, Mom" could be said before she started suspecting "Later" may need help becoming "Now". Carol's father, on the other hand, was a very patient man. However it appears even he had a point on how long he would display such patience. One of those stories where it depends which family member is asked, "Do you feel this was a humorous event?"

My older sister was popular and participated in various activities, inside and outside of high school, resulting in limited free time. My parents did not frown on her popularity, however, Mom started feeling my sister was turning her bedroom floor into a wardrobe catchall.

Mom asked her to clean the room. "I will do it later," or something similar, most likely my sister's response but other things took precedence over chores: hanging out with girlfriends, homework, boys, et cetera.

My sister's promises of "I will" or "Later" did not happen within my mother's opinion of a reasonable amount of time before concluding my sister's definition of "later" did not have a time frame applied to it. One day, after my sister left for school, Mom decided to clean the bedroom versus continuing the "I will do it later" waiting game.

That afternoon, my sister rushed home to her bedroom. Most teens would been upset about their mother cleaning their bedroom but my sister had other mind elsewhere, such as finding a particular blouse, so didn't even notice at first.

"Mom, have you seen my white blouse," she asked while entering the kitchen. My mother described a blouse she saw in my sister's room earlier that day. "Yeah, that's the one," my sister replied.

"It was on the floor by your bed." My sister hurried back to her bedroom but she didn't see the prized white blouse by her bed. "Well, it was there earlier when I was cleaning your room," my mother said when my sister returned to the kitchen.

"Maybe you hung it up," my sister said hopefully without waiting for confirmation. The sought-after white blouse was not hanging in her closet. Perhaps Mom thought it was dirty and washed it? My sister looked in the laundry room but still failed to find the blouse in question. "Mom, are you sure you saw it?"

"Pretty sure I picked it up, along with the other clothes you had on the floor, before carrying them out to the trash can," my mother replied before turning her attention back to the newspaper.

"What," my sister asked in disbelief.

"Well, they were on the floor," Mom pointed out in her own defense. "Apparently you didn't think much of those clothes if you were walking all over them."

My sister raced out to the curbside to discover my mother was not exaggerating. In the trash can was everything my sister had casually tossed onto her bedroom floor along with some other items my mother had also thrown away that day.

My sister did not wear the white blouse that evening. However, afterwards she did keep her clothes off the bedroom floor.

I followed in my sister's footsteps during my teen years. Well, not in terms of being popular as I was more of a wallflower but I did manage to have a few items strewn across the bedroom floor.

My mother shared how she had cleaned my sister's room once as hopeful motivation for me to clean my room without hands-on parental intervention. Being the typical cavalier teen, my mother's threat went in one ear and out the other.

She also mistakenly relayed the story without following through with the implied threat. Although I will admit to limiting myself to clothing I didn't like that much being the ones on the floor, just in case, so it would work in my favor with a couple of outfits in case my mother did decide to follow through.

My father felt there were only certain times when a closed bedroom door would be acceptable; such as someone wishing to play some music they knew their parents wouldn't particularly enjoy hearing. A messed up room and someone wishing to stall on doing something about it did not classify as a good reason for a closed door.

Time passed, my bedroom remained unimproved and started irritating my father. Anyone using the main bathroom, due to location its location, would have pas by my cluttered room.

One afternoon I wasn't home but had left my bedroom door wide open. While I was gone an important client of my father's unexpectedly stopped by the house to discuss business. Then client asked to use the bathroom.

Later my father shared with me how he felt like an idiot inventing an excuse so he could close my door beforehand. It was the proverbial "straw that broke the camel's back" moment as I had pushed him to his patience's limits. Not responding with the right amount of sympathy or guilt for my father's plight probably did not help either.

My father walked out of my room and I thought, "Well, that was brief." At least I thought that until he returned and closed the door behind him to position a screwdriver on door's upper hinge pin. *Thwack* *Thwack* Two well-aimed blows on the screwdriver's handle with a hammer is all it took to loosen the pin before he knelt to repeat this with the bottom hinge's pin.

I sat on my bed, in stunned silence, as he slipped the pins, screwdriver, and hammer into the back pocket of his jeans. "You'll get it back when you learn to appreciate and respect what I have given you," he said before carrying the door out to the garage.

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One never notices what has been done; one can only see what remains to be done.
-- Marie Curie in a letter to her brother (1894)

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-- Erma Bombeck

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Only Robinson Crusoe had everything done by Friday.
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