We are Living Sanford and Son.

Why yes, I do reference old sitcoms from my childhood to make a point.  The kids have no idea what I am talking about, but it makes me laugh.  And to get through life with kids, you need to laugh sometimes.  Or most of the time.

When we first realized that Amber wasn’t so much into the cleanliness side of life I compared her to Oscar Madison.  We moved along constantly yelling reminding Amber to pick up her clothes, food, plates, cups, toys, papers, writing utensils and the other various stuff that falls from her while she is just walking around. Now, we have learned how much Amber truly loves all her junk.  Hence the nickname Sanford and Son.

Amber loves her trash.  It sleeps with her a night in the version of dirty tissues surrounding her.  Maybe being surround by her own mucus is comforting, I don’t know.  It rides with her in the car.  She is constantly surrounded by plastic soda cup tops that she just couldn’t help but tear into tiny little pieces.  Or the paper that just cried out to be torn up into even smaller tiny little pieces.  Then there are the crumbs, that I can only think she keeps around to remind her of the lovely, yummy snacks I bring her, because she is just STARVING after school.  Or maybe she is still trying for that pet rat that I keep saying no to, but she just has to have because Ron Weasley has one.  Let’s not forget the leaking water bottle that left a nice size pond in the cubby spot next to her seat.

Nothing I do stops Amber from leaving her trail of trash everywhere we go. The ironic thing, though, is that she will freak whenever she sees trash on the ground, OUTSIDE.  Trash on the ground in the car, in our house, in her bed, on the table, etc doesn’t phase her.  Heaven forbid if there is the smallest piece of trash that has been stomped on by a million shoe bottoms, who have been God knows where, has been spit on, had bug feces on it, bug guts, etc then Amber will clutch her chest scream “I’m coming, Elizabeth!” and fall to the ground.  Okay, maybe not, but she does freak and has almost run into oncoming traffic to pick up the offending trash.  So maybe I have clutched my heart and screamed that “I am coming, Elizabeth!” and fell to the ground.

All this confuses me, because like I said in my last post I thought girls were sweet, nice and everything nice.  Well, except for their backstabbing ways.  I was prepared for Sam to be the dirty one with his snakes, bugs, slimy critters and rocks everywhere.  If he is interested in any of those things they are neatly organized, categorized and cleaned to be kept for all time.  You think I jest?  The boy found some shells by the lake and when we got home he washed them.  I would have preferred he used the sink instead of his drinking water, but still he washed them.  So as a parent to my 3 lovely children I am in a constant state of confusion.  I have no idea what to think about Evie, except I am bracing myself.  What the hell can the third one throw at me?  She hasn’t complained about the mess, so far, and Amber and her share a room.  Maybe she will, finally, be my go with the flow child.  Although, she is fighting when I ask her to clean up.  I am doomed.  I will live in the constant battle of clean vs dirty and it appears that dirty has more on it’s side than clean.  All I ask is when it gets too bad to please follow the whimpers, because I would like my children to dig me out of the trash pile.