Here We Go Again

We have been better organized lately, and it is working well for us. Daughter knows that there is no TV unless her room is done, and she has been keeping it clean, or so it seemed. Today I was doing laundry and needed some more skirt hangers. I went up to her room and opened her closet. There was about a foot of clothing dumped on the floor.

When she got home tonight, I mentioned that her room needed some attention, and told her I'd opened her closet door in search of hangers. She was not happy, but wandered upstairs, knowing it was a battle she couldn't win. She wasn't gone too long before she came back down and plopped herself in the chair in my study. "I need to get out of here now."

I rolled my chair over and put my hands on her knees. I gently explained what had led her to this declaration. "I don't want to clean up my closet. If I had a place of my own, I wouldn't have to listen to her. It's not fair. I'm 21 years old, I should be able to live on my own." I said more, but you get the idea. By the time I was done, she was smiling, though her eyes were still downcast. I reminded her that we have the same goal, equipping her to live independently. I assured her that as soon as she was ready, she could do it. I told her it wasn't going to be today or tomorrow, though.

She said, "One thing I have to learn before I can live on my own is how to do my own laundry." I agreed. I pointed out I didn't want her to have too much piled on her, so when she had kept her room clean for a month, I'd begin teaching her how to do her own laundry. (I've actually gone through it with her before, but she hasn't mastered it yet. She's still working on properly sorting her clothes into the three bag hamper in the bathroom.)

She sat here and moped for a while, and then headed upstairs. She stopped in the hall to jump in frustration once. It reminded me vividly of a time when she was 5 or 6 years old. We were in the family room in the basement of the home we lived in then. I had sent her upstairs for something, and she wasn't happy about it. She dramatically jumped up and down several times at the foot of the stairs. I calmly pointed out that it didn't have much of an impact on the concrete floor, but if she wanted to do it again when she got upstairs, I was sure it would be much more dramatic. She walked up the stairs, glaring at me the whole time. When she got to the top, she very carefully stopped, jumped three times (still glaring at me), and then went off to follow my directions. I waited until she was gone before I laughed.