Wipe Your Feet

Ok, I am beginning to sound like my mom........Thank Goodness! I used to think that her constant reminder for us to wipe our feet, or take our dish to the kitchen, or clear the table, was her way of getting out of doing the housework...that was until I was old enough to have to clean up after the fact that having three brothers really meant that there were three men living in our house that were oblivious to their surroundings. My mom kept a pretty clean house. I remember her telling us that we had to hurry and clean because the "insurance" man was coming to give them a quote. I didn't catch on until much later, when I realized that in all my at growing up years I never once saw their "insurance" man. It was mom's way of getting us to really clean our rooms without having to nag at us yet another time. I tried using the "insurance man" routine, but my kids are smarter than I was. They know that the insurance man doesn't make housecalls. So instead, I tell them that I am thinking of taking a long weekend away....by myself because I am so sick of looking at their messes that they just step over. That doesn't work either. They start asking where and when are we all going. They know that I can't leave them on the drop of a hat. hmmmm... I am going to have to think of something here.
This past weekend, as many know, Bob took the boys all camping. They were gone three days. In that three day time, Meg, Anabelle, and I, cleaned the house pretty darned good. I even scrubbed the floors on my hands and kness. .I felt good after I was finished because I was able to get all the foot prints, dropspots and grime off the floors. It wasn't like it was really bad, I just knew that all these little imperfections and marks were there and they needed to be obliterated from my kitchen. It was so nice to have quiet in the house and no one insisting on a full five course hot meal every day. Bob doesn't request this... it's just something that I have done for years. My mom always served full meals and it's just a part of who I am... Sooo, guess what? I took Anabelle to McDonald's on Friday night, got pizza for Saturday, and we had leftovers for Sunday...and I dropped 3 lbs. I don't know if that is good or bad? hmmm...
I thought I would start this entry by calling it Wipe Your Feet....and found that as I write these things all the little life lessons that my mom, and to an extent, Nana, taught me have really made me who I am. Hearing myself sound like my mom is actually a good thing. You read jokes about starting to sound like one's mother and I think...Well, Praise God I finally have some sense. Have I arrived at my final complete person/mom stage? Not by a long shot. I have so far to go....I still need to master the "insurance man" method. So mom, if you read this today, know that I love you and I thank you for all the little and not so little things that you said over the years, so I could sound like you.
I know that I told my mom this, but I haven't repeated this event ever to anyone other than her and Bob, who was involved in this instance. When Bob and I were first married and we had our first "big" fight, he looked at me and yelled, "You Sound Just Like Your Mom". I turned, stopped completely in my tracks....those of you who know me know that I am NEVER left without something to comeback with and am never completely "stopped", I looked at him, smiled sweetly and said, "Why, Thank you". He's never said it since. Sometimes I wish that he would, because if he did, I would know that I have accomplished something great.
So...for those of you who are reading this...remember..."Wipe your feet because the insurance man is coming."