Paul R

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The Dabbling Mum™ E-zine

National Publication for BUSY Parents

http://thedabblingmum.com

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FEATURE ARTICLE: PARENTING

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With the hustle and bustle of Christmas, getting your children to

clean up their rooms can be exasperating, but it doesn't have to be,

thanks to Paul!

LET YOUR KID DO THE NAGGING

- A Bedroom Cleanup Strategy -

Like most seven-year-olds, my daughter Maggie seizes her days with

enthusiasm. In a typical Saturday afternoon, she'll knock out a

watercolor masterpiece, put together five beaded necklaces, build a

sand-art sculpture, and use an entire roll of masking tape to create

an obstacle course in her bedroom. While we encourage Maggie's

artistic genius, we often feel like we're cleaning up behind a

lovable little F5 tornado.

There are times when I have to step in and announce a timeout for

Maggie's creative expression. I can't spend every minute of my life

cleaning up after her, and she has to start learning how to take

responsibility for her own messes.

There have been battles in the past. I'd beg her to clean up her

room and then come back five minutes later to find her constructing a

Popsicle stick path from her closet to her dresser. I'd get angry

and yell at her to finish. I'd threaten to take away privileges. In

desperation, I would drop into a routine of pointing to different

areas of the room and barking orders.

"I want this puzzle packed up and put on the shelf. Get those cut up

scraps of paper down from the ceiling fan and throw them away. Put

these clothes away. Put the covers on those markers and put them in

the art cabinet." Maggie would march around her bedroom like a

zombie and complete the assigned tasks.

The problem wasn't that Maggie was lazy - she just didn't have any

ownership in the process of cleaning her room. To her, the only way

to make me happy was to follow my exact instructions. If I was

looming over her, the instructions were followed. But if I stepped

out of the room, she'd lose interest within a couple of seconds until

I came back in to scream and yell.

After the third or fourth time yelling at her to finish her room one

day, I walked into the kitchen to take some deep breaths. Then I got

an idea and stepped back into Maggie's bedroom. I sat down on the

floor next to the pile of Popsicle sticks and met her eye to eye.

"I'm going to help you clean your room," I said. "But I want you to

tell me what to do. You need to tell me what to put away, what to

organize, stuff like that. I'm not going to tell you what to do,

because this is your room. I'm just here to help you."

As I was speaking, I was making a solemn oath with myself. Whatever

she asked me to do, I would jump right on it, no matter what.

"Okay," Maggie said, shrugging her shoulders. Not a whole lot of

enthusiasm, but she seemed interested in the idea of being able to

boss Dad around for a while.

"So," I asked. "What do you want me to start with?"

"Hmm." She looked around the room. Then she rested her hand on a

brand new craft project she hadn't yet opened - a kit for making a

sun catcher. "How about you put this together and we can paint it

and hang it on the wall?"

Alarms went off in my head, and I gritted my teeth. I had just

promised that I would do whatever she asked.

"Well, I know I said I'd do what you told me to do," I

explained. "But that's a new art project. We can do that later, but

right now we need to clean things up, and organize. Can you give me

something to do like that?"

She didn't seem too flustered by my response, and she scanned the

room.

"You want to organize the stuff on top of my desk?" she asked.

"Got it!" I answered, probably with too much enthusiasm.

I went right to work - stacking papers, throwing away cut-up pieces

of yarn, gathering up stuffed animals. Maggie watched me for a

moment. I thought about asking her what she was going to do, but

that wasn't the deal. It wasn't my business. I was just there to

help her. After a minute or so, she went to work on her own.

"I'll do the top of my dresser."

"Sounds good," I said, talking just like we were buddies working in

cubicles at the office.

When I finished her desk, I asked for another assignment. She told

me to put away a stack of clothes next to her dresser. I started

putting some socks in a drawer, but Maggie stopped me and asked me to

put them in a different drawer. We worked together to finish the

pile.

We finished picking up the floor, and Maggie sent me off to get the

vacuum cleaner. When I came back into her room, Maggie was still

cleaning! She even helped me by moving things out of the way as I

ran the vacuum. Working together, we finished the room in a matter

of minutes.

My wife and I have what we call a "fireman's rule" with the kids.

The floor in their bedroom doesn't have to be perfectly tidy, but it

must be safe enough for a fireman to get in for a rescue without

tripping over something and knocking himself out cold on the bunk bed.

"Think it passes the fireman's rule?" I asked.

"Yeah!" Maggie answered. "It's beautiful!"

"Yup," I agreed. "Sure is."

Maggie gave me a triumphant smile and I gave her a hug. It sure beat

screaming and yelling. Maggie was reaching for the Popsicle sticks

and masking tape as I walked out of the room. She was already

planning her next masterpiece, but at least she was starting out in a

clean studio.

Paul R. May is a full-time writer and stay-at-home dad. He writes

children's novels, picture books, parenting articles, and essays

about raising children. Paul taught writing for five years as an

English teacher in Baltimore, Maryland. He then worked as a

technical instructor for ten years. In 2002, Paul and his wife moved

to Tampa, Florida to eliminate daycare for their children and to

allow him to focus on his writing full time.

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