The Tao of the Vacuum

There are some household chores that I like and some I despise.  Like, "please oh please, someone, anyone else do this" kind of despise.  Surprisingly I don't mind cleaning bathrooms, there is something nice about a shiny, clean bathroom and I have a nice little system down.  Plus the bathrooms are small so I'm in and out in a few minutes.  I'm not so big on cleaning the tubs, but it's better then dusting, I hate dusting.  That is my "anyone, anyone?" chore.  I used to dust for my mom when I was little, I liked it then, I'm not sure why.  I think it had to do with the lemon pledge and playing with all the little knick-knacks on all the surfaces.  I don't think I ever broke any, but I know I sure played with them.  My mother probably weighed the pros and cons of her precious chachkis against my being occupied for a good 45 minutes and having a few dusted surfaces and picked the same thing all of us mothers would.

I'm teaching Abby how to dust.  How do you think I'm typing this? 

My favorite chore, the one I actually want to do and get sad about not getting to is vacuuming.  Yes, vacuuming.  I love it, for so many reasons.  First off, people leave you alone when you vacuum.  It's loud and annoying to those around you and you can't hear them if they talk to you, or you can pretend you can't hear them and they eventually give up.  It's private.  I zone out to the constant hum/white noise of my big ol' vacuum.  It's calming and I get into an almost meditative spot.  Yes, I actually have thoughts that rattle around in my brain, and I have time to think them over, it's nice.  And I love the clean  carpet tracks that are left behind.  You know, that nice re-fluffed carpet, it looks almost new, like the day it was installed instead of the carpet I actually have with the crayon wrappers and the dog hair and crushed up food crumbs imbedded in it.  And do I have to mention that vacuuming burns calories?  Especially with my vacuum.  A few years ago my parents gave us a big ol' Kenmore vacuum, this thing is heavy but it sucks, I mean really sucks!  It's awesome.  I think it may actually suck up dirt from a parallel dimension it's that good.

Yes, life is good for me and my vacuum.

Except for my meddling kids.  They have ruined my Zen Vacuuming moments.  

It all started out the way it should.  Abby used to be afraid of the vacuum, I think she learned it from our dog.  I would have to put her in our bedroom on our bed with her sippy cup, a snack trap full of goldfish, her blankie, Snuggle Puppy, a baby doll and the TV on to Dora, then I could shut the door and vacuum the entire rest of the upstairs.  Then move her and her posse out to the playroom and shut the door to our bedroom to finish the job (including vacuuming up the goldfish.)  Then, my mother, with all of her Grandmotherly love, taught my daughter that the vacuum wasn't going to hurt her and she could actually make a game out of it.  Thanks Mom.  So now my daughter, and my son who has learned this game, play "oh no, the vacuum is going to get us!" whenever I vacuum.  I hate this game.  They run around me and the vacuum darting out of the way as it heads towards them, leaving their cute little footprints all over my freshly vacuumed tracks.  They have ruined my vacuuming zen.  

Then there's my son.  Eli, having the fully activated boy gene, is actually drawn to the loud machine.  I think he feels a certain kinship to something that is as loud as he is.  He wants to help me.  Oh sweet sheep, this is always murder.  He has to turn it on, then he wants to hold it, but the thing weighs more than he does so I have to help him drag it back and forth across the carpet.  Then he beams, "I helping Mommy!" and smiles his ridiculously cute little vampire toothed smile at me.  Eventually they both get bored with me and my buddy Kenmore and run off to the other room and for a short time I get to be alone with my vacuum and my thoughts, but it's hard to get into that deep meditative place that I so enjoy.  

Someday my house will be empty.  There will be no more Barbie shoes or scraps of lovey blankie buried deep in the carpet to look out for.  I won't have little kids offering to help or leaving their little footprints in my freshly vacuumed carpet.  And I suppose that I will miss these days then.  But, boy oh boy, will my carpet look good.