I'm going with Vizzini on this one.

There's a scene in the Princess Bride - the greatest movie ever:

Vizzini: Finish him. Finish him, your way.
Fezzik: Oh good, my way. Thank you Vizzini... what's my way?
Vizzini: Pick up one of those rocks, get behind a boulder, in a few minutes the man in black will come running around the bend, the minute his head is in view, hit it with the rock.
Fezzik: My way's not very sportsman-like.

Amen to that, Andre the Giant! In biding time with my kids and family, I took a long hard look at my mean-mommyness and what really drives me nuts. It's picking up everyone's crap, all day. Ricardo's pieve around the house is the lights. He tells me he walks around the house in a constant flow and turns off lights. Keep turning them off, hunny, so I don't see all the crap on the floor. Shoes are the worst, mine included. I can't decide if it's because our feet are so big, or what, but they are everywhere - giant people shoes. Nothing says "damn kids better pick up their stupid toys or I am going to burn them and make them watch" like stepping on a lego, a barbie, or my personal favorite, a hot wheel car. And everytime I step on it, I look at my foot in complete disappointment and awe that it's not bleeding.

It makes me grumpy and loud and very Joan Crawford. I don't want to be Mommy Dearest, I want to be hot and fun momma. So, I've taken drastic steps to make that possible. I've scheduled several surgeries. Or not...yet, anyways.

But I have decided to take the mean away and just clean it up myself. Julz(Holla!) and I pleasantly disagree on this. But that's because her kids main form of enjoyment and glee is cleaning! Another difference in our homes is I don't have a play area outside of their rooms. I've considered it, but don't have it. So, when a kid at MY house wakes up in the middle of the night, oh, barfing, let's say. And I rush in, and I'm all "Oh, hunny, are you okay sweetie? Let me get to you and hold your hair back....what the..." SLAM-CRUNCH-THUD while she's still barfing and I'm wincing in pain, suddenly I hear myself, "I TOLD YOU TO KEEP THIS ROOM CLEAN, I"M GOING TO THROW IT ALL AWAY! I'LL DO IT - EVERYTHING ON THE FLOOR IS NOW TRASH, YOU HEAR ME OVER THAT HEAVING THING YOU'RE DOING!? PULL YOUR OWN DAMN HAIR BACK, KID."

Fine, it's never come to that. But close. That doesn't have potential at Julz(Holla!)'s house because her toys aren't in the path of barfing children at night. She has a cool play area and perhaps, along with that, a bit more patience and that other stuff - maternal instinct and all that.

So, I've taken into account the fact that this is just might be my fault - somewhat. We don't give them a chance and make it a consistent routine to clean up before bedtime. We're barely getting their teeth brushed. And since I AM the stay-at-home mom, and somewhat of a control freak - I've just decided that I'll clean it up. Gasp. What are you teaching your children, Leslie!? I'm teaching them that mommy doesn't scream all the time. Just some of the time.

Relax and hear me out. They have chores and responsibilities. But really, they can't clean fast enough or good enough for mommy anyways. Not yet, atleast. So, I take them to school each day, and come home, make the beds, and pick up the stuff. My hope is that they'll get good and comfy in a clean home. That they'll see that everything has a place - a good place, that mommy picked out for a really good reason. And then in a few years, it'll be logical that they just return their stuff to that place naturally. That, or I throw their toys away when they are at school - which I do 3 times a year anyways.

Yeah, cleaning up after the kids probably isn't very sportsman-like in the world of mommyness. But I'm going with Vezzini on this one, drastic times call for drastic measures.

So far, this is working. The first week, they came home each day and thanked me voluntarily for making their beds. Today, I went to make Lucy's bed and found her trash can half full (always the optimist) of water. Interesting. See, had I not made this decision to clean up their rooms, I'd have not found the nasty water in her trash can. I'm in a less demanding angry mommy, and really, I think I have my stay at home mom gig prioritized better than I ever have. That, and the skin on my feet is in tact. So, that's bonus.

What are your tips on keeping the house running smoothly without justifying Joan Crawford references?

That's how I roll.