Typically, these are phrases that echo my mother’s teachings, uttered with frequency: “Close your mouth while chewing,” “Do not pick at your teeth,” “Napkin on your lap, please,” “It’s ‘most fun,’ not ‘funnest,’” “Make your bed,” and “Clean your room.” Ironically, the same admonishments that irritated me as a child have proven to be equally vexing to express as a parent.
As a kid, I perceived those reminders as personal critiques. Every correction regarding my language or manners felt like a personal affront. While it stung at the time, I eventually gained commendable etiquette and a strong grasp of the English language—thanks in part to being told to read whenever I complained of boredom.
The role of a parent is to educate, serving as a living guide to navigating societal norms. I always thought my mother was overly stringent in her approach, but as I raised my own children, I began to shift my perspective.
As the eldest of eight, I now see that while my mother meticulously instilled values of cleanliness and decorum in me, my younger siblings didn’t necessarily face the same level of scrutiny. My youngest brother, for instance, is not held to the same standards as I was. While I was chastised for improper table manners, I find myself delighted when my younger brother licks his plate clean, much to the horror of his siblings.
My first two children, due to my more rigorous discipline, maintain relatively tidy rooms. Their dirty laundry finds its way into hampers, and beds are usually made. One might assume such habits would naturally extend to the younger two, but that assumption would be incorrect.
My two youngest, a delightful 18-year-old daughter and a 12-year-old son, are wonderful individuals—easygoing and full of humor—but their rooms resemble disaster zones. My son, despite his occasional lapses in judgment, has managed to move up to seventh grade, showcasing his intelligence. My daughter, however, has a unique approach to tidiness: she prefers to scatter her dirty clothes across her floor, perhaps believing that airing them out is a viable approach for future wear. Piles of worn jeans and T-shirts are tucked away in corners, giving off a vibe reminiscent of compost, although it’s unclear if she tends to them regularly.
Though she is certainly not lazy—balancing three jobs and a rigorous course load this school year—her organizational skills seem to falter when it comes to her room. Empty water bottles clutter her desk, and a trash can brims with crumpled papers and snack wrappers.
Over the years, I’ve expended significant effort urging her and her brother to tidy up: “Make your bed,” “Take out the trash,” “Put your clean clothes away.” Yet, these requests seem to fall on deaf ears. Cleanliness simply does not rank high on their list of priorities.
This has led me to ponder how important cleanliness truly is. In the grand scheme, is a tidy desk really that essential? I’ve come to realize that I’d rather hear someone practicing their saxophone than worry about bed-making. That said, I do remain committed to ensuring that my children do not become adults who chew with their mouths open.
The situation took a poignant turn the night before I dropped my daughter off at college. With her departure approaching, her room became a chaotic mix of clothing and bags, signaling her transition. I reminded her to tidy up her space, despite knowing her mind was preoccupied with the significant life changes ahead.
After a four-hour drive filled with intermittent rain and sleepy passengers, we finally reached her new college environment. Following the customary trip to Target for last-minute essentials and a bookstore visit for textbooks, we prepared her new living space. It was bittersweet to leave her there, especially after witnessing how her room transformed into a lovely, organized space—something I had long hoped to see.
In that moment, I realized the irony: I finally had the clean room I had always wanted, but it came at the cost of my daughter’s presence. While she embarks on a new chapter, her old room stands empty, a testament to the energy that once filled it. The price of cleanliness, it seems, was losing the vibrancy of her spirit.
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In summary, the journey of parenting is filled with lessons, both in guiding children and in learning to let go. The price of cleanliness in my daughter’s room was steep, but it also marked a transition to a new phase of life for both of us.
Keyphrase: The Cost of Parenting
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