Muddy Floors

So the neighbor kids came over last evening and asked if the kids could come out to play. We’ve had so many cold days in a row that it’s been a while since we’ve seen anyone really out in the neighborhood. The girls both jumped right up and headed out. Little boy spent some time hemming and hawing. He finally decided that he, too, would head out to play. So he went to the laundry room and put on his shoes. He stepped outside and circled the house once before deciding that he needed his gloves. He came in through the front door in order to get to the basket of gloves and hats… which is stationed by the back door.

Of course, the sun has provided just enough melt that his shoes had enormous globs of mud on them. I met him at the hat/glove basket and kindly said, “Hey, your feet are muddy. Please exit and enter only through this door (pointing at the back door) and when you are done, leave your shoes in THIS room before coming back into the house.”

He smiled and said, “Okay, Mom!” Then promptly ran PAST me and headed for the sliding glass doors on the OTHER side of the house.

So I dropped the kind and yelled. “Get back in here and exit through this door only!!”

My son exits through the back door as I’m hearing kids enter through the front door.

“Hi, Mrs. Simmons!” the neighbor kids are saying as three of them plus my own two tromp in… also with big old globs of mud on their feet.

It’s getting dark out, of course, which also means it’s getting cold. There’s no way I’m going to ask them to play outside. Two are headed upstairs to play with barbies. Another couple are talking about pulling out a board game. I usher most of them back out the door and request that they enter through the back door and remove their shoes before they come all the way into the house.

In no time at all I have the chatter of kids in my house – all having fun and feeling cozy. AND my floor is covered with mud. Kitchen floor is muddy. Living room has mud tracks in every direction. And the tracks are here and there and everywhere in between.

At some point, one of the oldest kids looks around and says, “Wow. We really got your floor muddy.” She looked a bit distressed.

This is the point where I had to stop myself and ask just what kind of parent I want to be remembered as. So I took a deep breath, smiled, and said, “Yeah, well I was needing a good excuse to mop my floors anyway.” And that’s what I did. I mopped the floors while the kids played games.

This is the kind of thing I'm not always good at. I don't like to mop floors. I especially don't like it spur of the moment. I prefer to have it on a list, to plan it, to give myself time to think about it and maybe distract myself from in it a dozen different ways.

But last evening, I did okay. I mopped the floors and the world didn't end. This is information I shall store in my head... for next time.