I can't help but wonder as I'm cleaning bedrooms today, how in the world did I end up with two children, 19 months apart, who are so TOTALLY different from each other? I have a third child, but his exact habits and disposition aren't quite written in stone yet, so I'll hold off on him until he starts school. When that day comes, I'll analyze him like any good mother does, but for now, he's safe.
I started in Tanner's room, because, let's be honest, his is the easier room. Upon entering I see that his bed has already been made, throw pillows placed perfectly at the top: two reds surrounding a white-- ahh, symmetry. His throw rugs, one football, another basketball shaped, are lying on the floor, not crumpled into little balls in the corner (I've seen it done before). His floor is lacking in any strewn around clothing items, because, and I swear this is the truth, he asked me for a clothes basket and that is where he deposits the dirties. In order to get to the clothes basket, I push the door shut just a little and notice that the shoe organizer I bought for him holds all of his shoes, each one with a MATCH!! No dirty cleats on this floor, no lonesome flip-flop, unwearable for lack of a mate. He has a separate drawer for underwear and socks, T-shirts and Under Armors in another, and Sunday clothes (yes, he does have them) hang in the closet. I weep a little as I exit this 8 year old's sanctuary and turn left into . . . TUCKER'S ROOM!!!!!!
Oh, where to start? First, the bed is not made, and not only is it not made it looks like wolves wrestled in it all night. Most beds require only a straightening of the sheet and comforter, fluffing of the pillows, and replacing of the throw ones. Not this bed. The comforter is wrung like a handkerchief in a nervous man's hand; one pillow is UNDERNEATH the bed, and the throw pillows didn't even fall close to the edge of the bed frame. It's as if he practiced quarterbacking at midnight using his satin accessories. As far as shoes go, there isn't even a hanging shoe compartment, and we usually begin each day with a "search for Zigs." Socks live for days underneath the bed, crumpled in corners, and yes, underneath the pillow until I go hunting for them after a 7 sock laundry load. The clothing situation is no better: football practice starts early at our house as we search for girdles, long socks, and the perfect practice shirt. This room is painfully free of any organization, no sock drawer, no folded t-shirts, no Easy Button.
Seriously, though. It isn't as if I took each one aside as toddlers and instructed them separately on how I like things done. They were with me ALL THE TIME, how did one pick up on my habits and the other follow the dad who was away coaching much of the time. (No offense, Daddy, but you DO NOT make your bed, and I have been known to pick up clothing from the floor. Just Sayin'). Does that mean that cleanliness and organization is genetic, that nothing I do will make a difference in what kind of husband each one becomes? Was all that motherly instruction for naught? Could I have just as easily taken them to the mall and dragged them from store to food court and back? Would that have been just as fruitful?
But the most important question comes now: Should I just throw caution to the wind and let Tate become whatever he is genetically determined to become? Are there more important things to teach a 2 year old than to throw away his trash? Or pick up his puzzle pieces? Of course there are. How to be kind to each other, how to say "please" and "thank you," how to respect others and especially folks older than them. They open doors, say excuse me, pray each night before bed, and never forget to tell me that they love me. Maybe their differences aren't so big after all. Maybe the ways in which they are alike are waaay more important than the ways in which they differ. Maybe they were listening to me after all. . .
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