I admit, I am a clean person. Chaos makes me anxious. I like my house to look nice. I prefer to leave everything where it is and put it away. When my kids were little, it wasn’t just about having them clean up their own messes. I want their bedrooms to be decorated and kept a certain way. That meant I picked out their bedding — vetoing the John Deere set that my son really wanted for his first bed — and made sure everything was organized and matched.
When they were about 13, I realized I might have made a mistake. I was too controlling and forced them to decorate the room the way I wanted. My three children need a space of their own, and it would be selfish of me to ask them to live in a bedroom that only I enjoy. After all, I can close the door on them and pretend it doesn’t exist. So I did a 180 and let them decorate the way they wanted. If they want to express themselves and keep it in the bedroom, that’s fine. I can let go.
I’m sure you can guess what happened next.
Fast forward a few years: My kids’ room looks like a crime scene. No sheets on the bed, no clothes, no food, no trash on the floor. Empty soda cans are stuck to the carpet and windowsills, hair dye has dried in the bowl, and banana peels are starting to grow. One time my youngest had a colony of queen ants in his drawers while his clothes were stored on the floor. This is absolutely disgusting.
I would take a deep breath and ask them to throw away the trash and food, which they eventually did. Then it was back to disaster.
But about a year ago, I hit a turning point. I walked into one of their rooms and looked around, something I’d avoided doing for years to stay sane. Theories behind closed doors can only last so long. They write on the wall. Stick things in random places, then remove the tape and take some drywall with you. LED lights hung from the ceiling, and paint and drywall were peeling off. Their obsession with plants was all over the floor and windowsills, and there were lots of stains on the carpet. I want to scream.
Things have gone too far. My kids remind me that I said they could do whatever they wanted to their rooms and that was true. But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine they would choose to live in filth. I lost it. I yelled, collected trash bags, and demanded everything be cleaned up.
I wanted to take a match and lighter fluid and burn the whole house down. I can handle some messy stuff. But there was absolutely no way I could handle this. My kids are not just living their best lives in a messy room; They threw them away. They destroyed part of my home and I was killing myself almost every month. But in their mind, I said it didn’t matter.
Not at all. This is disrespectful.
I realized there was a serious miscommunication between us. I have to take a step back and remind my kids that it’s one thing to decorate and own your space the way you want it, but they should have some pride and discipline in keeping the things you love clean. Especially if they live under my roof since I have to deal with the damage, clean the carpet, replace the holes in the wall, and repaint while they are away. We spent a few days getting things back into shape.
Looking back, I should have handled things better. Maybe I should use a different language. But to be honest, I don’t think my kids are going to vandalize their rooms, they are really good at cleaning up after themselves and keeping the common living area nice and clean, and don’t get upset because they literally sleep next to an old crusty bowl feel scared.
But like all things in parenting, you live and learn. So take it from me. Don’t give your children complete control over how they clean their room. Too risky if you ask me. It might save you.
Diana Park is a writer who finds solitude in a good book, the ocean, and eating fast food with her kids.
