Another little ditty from our Christmas letter last year:
Jesse, in denial about his advanced age, had a fun little trip to the ER recently. I knew something was up when our hair stylist dropped him off at the house. He was getting his hair cut when he suddenly had a kidney stone attack. He couldn’t drive or think. After a few pain killers, he thought it had passed so he went to work at his office. I should have known better because a few minutes later I was picking him up on the way to the ER for the real drugs. He got a good old shot that supposedly should knock out a horse but he was still in pain for several more hours. We only wish we could have had a video camera to capture his craziness on film.
“Would everyone quit touching me?” he calls out in a drug induced fog.
“No one is touching you honey,” I explain as gently as possible.
“Well stop thinking about touching me O.K.”
As the children erupt in laughter I say, “No problem hon, we won’t think of touching you.”
“Tell the kids to stop thinking about touching me. I can tell when they do it because it makes me itchy,” the man in loo loo land says earnestly.
Luckily after a few more hours, a priesthood blessing and a lot of sleep he has recovered nicely. Life as the principal teacher, administrator, curriculum developer and janitor of a private school is never boring. We finally have a real name for the school, Legacy Leadership Academy, and the 18 students who attend there are all top notch. It is a full time job with part time pay but he is enjoying it a lot.
He also is working afternoons in his chiropractic practice so he rarely has a spare moment but he has decided that sleeping really is not optional. We are hoping to win the lottery or have some anonymous donor give us a lot of money but that hasn’t happened yet. He is still slowly working towards his PhD in Constitutional Law but he is getting an awesome education simply by preparing and teaching each week.
He is still serving as the Young Men’s President in our church and he and Andrew had an incredible time on a 4 day pioneer trek last summer. He also got to attend a few days of Scout Camp and several other miscellaneous campouts.
Even with his crazy schedule he always has time for a good wrestle with the kids, a philosophical discussion about the mind, spirit and the body, his daily practice of the hymns on the piano, peanut butter no bake cookies and a movie with a lot of explosions.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
A Little About Me
Here is a little blurb from our last year's Christmas Letter:
Ann, embracing her life at the big 4 0, is continually on the run. Life moves on at the same break neck speed. I team taught two college education classes this past year and I really enjoyed the challenge. I also finished up my coursework for my Masters and hope some time in the next millennia to get my thesis written. (Don’t hold your breath.) I developed and taught an ACT test preparation course last spring and keep hoping to have five minutes to get it up and running really strong. I have had so many people contact me about teaching this course I just need to quit watching Oprah and eating bon bons and get it going. (Who needs sleep right.)
This past fall I had an absolute blast teaching a writing course to Daniel’s homeschooling group. I had 11 boys and 4 girls in the class. I am also helping with all aspects of our academy and that is a big task as well. It was great fun to speak at several large education events last year. This coming year Jesse and I will be speaking at a big educational event in Salt Lake City again.
I am still serving in the Stake Primary and am also playing the piano in Relief Society. At the first of the year I hope to slow down a little and breathe some. I will be helping to coach Andrew’s Mock Trial team again but I won’t be doing any teaching for a few months (other than some ACT prep classes).
Still the main teacher for my 3 younger urchins, I am constantly trying to help inspire them to want to learn and grow in their God given talents. It is exciting to watch the children develop their gifts and passions. If you see me and I have bags under my eyes, don’t tell me I look tired just tell me my hair looks nice.
Ann, embracing her life at the big 4 0, is continually on the run. Life moves on at the same break neck speed. I team taught two college education classes this past year and I really enjoyed the challenge. I also finished up my coursework for my Masters and hope some time in the next millennia to get my thesis written. (Don’t hold your breath.) I developed and taught an ACT test preparation course last spring and keep hoping to have five minutes to get it up and running really strong. I have had so many people contact me about teaching this course I just need to quit watching Oprah and eating bon bons and get it going. (Who needs sleep right.)
This past fall I had an absolute blast teaching a writing course to Daniel’s homeschooling group. I had 11 boys and 4 girls in the class. I am also helping with all aspects of our academy and that is a big task as well. It was great fun to speak at several large education events last year. This coming year Jesse and I will be speaking at a big educational event in Salt Lake City again.
I am still serving in the Stake Primary and am also playing the piano in Relief Society. At the first of the year I hope to slow down a little and breathe some. I will be helping to coach Andrew’s Mock Trial team again but I won’t be doing any teaching for a few months (other than some ACT prep classes).
Still the main teacher for my 3 younger urchins, I am constantly trying to help inspire them to want to learn and grow in their God given talents. It is exciting to watch the children develop their gifts and passions. If you see me and I have bags under my eyes, don’t tell me I look tired just tell me my hair looks nice.
A Prayer in the Parish
This is a story I wrote about an experience I had several years ago.
A Prayer in the Parish
“Wow, those flags look awesome,” said our six year old son, Jacob, as we pulled into the parking lot of the Catholic church near our home. Several hundred U.S. flags flapped in the wind on the beautifully groomed grounds. My husband and our four children had been invited to participate in a patriotic community program celebrating the Constitution of the United States.
The event was a wonderful mixture of speakers, music, and presentations all with the intent of promoting the spirit of patriotism in our city. At the end of the evening, as the several hundred people in attendance were putting chairs away and visiting, a woman tapped me on the shoulder.
“May I speak with you for a moment,” came the timid request. I stepped away from the noisy crowd so we could speak.
“That was a wonderful program,” she went on shakily, obviously overcome with emotion. I said I too had enjoyed the program. I thought maybe she had pulled me aside because I had directed a youth choir for one of the musical numbers. But I was wrong.
“I was driving by and saw those beautiful flags and stopped to see what was going on,” she said as she choked back the tears. “I only heard the closing prayer but I felt God’s spirit the minute I stepped inside the room.”
As she continued to speak I was confused as to why she wanted to talk to me. She tearfully explained that her name was Dorothy and she was 43 years old. For the majority of her adult life she had been addicted to drugs and had been a prisoner to her addictions. During the last 9 months she had been clean of drugs but lately was feeling overwhelmed by temptation to slip back into her former life.
“God directed me to this building and he directed me to you. Will you please pray for me?” she pleaded.
I immediately reached my arms out and pulled her close to me and said, “I would love to.” I searched the large boisterous gymnasium for a quiet spot and saw the door of an office slightly ajar. We moved quickly towards the open room, stepped in and shut the door.
She asked me if I was a member of this parish and I said that I was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and people of many faiths were in attendance. She looked a little surprised but said, “I don’t know much about your beliefs but I know this is where I’m supposed to be right now.”
We joined hands and knelt carefully on the hard tile floor. I took at deep breath offering my own silent prayer asking for help to say something of value and comfort to this dear troubled woman
I felt a rush of the spirit roll over me like a wave as I began to speak. As I prayed her tears increased until heaving sobs wracked her whole body. She also nodded and quietly repeated the word, “Yes” after nearly every phrase spoken. Tears slipped down my own cheeks as I felt her burden lift.
Afterward, we embraced and exchanged words of love and appreciation for the love of God in our lives. “I always knew God loved me. Thanks for reminding me that he won’t ever stop,” Dorothy said as she disappeared into the crowd.
Never in my life had a been so humbled by such a simple request.
A Prayer in the Parish
“Wow, those flags look awesome,” said our six year old son, Jacob, as we pulled into the parking lot of the Catholic church near our home. Several hundred U.S. flags flapped in the wind on the beautifully groomed grounds. My husband and our four children had been invited to participate in a patriotic community program celebrating the Constitution of the United States.
The event was a wonderful mixture of speakers, music, and presentations all with the intent of promoting the spirit of patriotism in our city. At the end of the evening, as the several hundred people in attendance were putting chairs away and visiting, a woman tapped me on the shoulder.
“May I speak with you for a moment,” came the timid request. I stepped away from the noisy crowd so we could speak.
“That was a wonderful program,” she went on shakily, obviously overcome with emotion. I said I too had enjoyed the program. I thought maybe she had pulled me aside because I had directed a youth choir for one of the musical numbers. But I was wrong.
“I was driving by and saw those beautiful flags and stopped to see what was going on,” she said as she choked back the tears. “I only heard the closing prayer but I felt God’s spirit the minute I stepped inside the room.”
As she continued to speak I was confused as to why she wanted to talk to me. She tearfully explained that her name was Dorothy and she was 43 years old. For the majority of her adult life she had been addicted to drugs and had been a prisoner to her addictions. During the last 9 months she had been clean of drugs but lately was feeling overwhelmed by temptation to slip back into her former life.
“God directed me to this building and he directed me to you. Will you please pray for me?” she pleaded.
I immediately reached my arms out and pulled her close to me and said, “I would love to.” I searched the large boisterous gymnasium for a quiet spot and saw the door of an office slightly ajar. We moved quickly towards the open room, stepped in and shut the door.
She asked me if I was a member of this parish and I said that I was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and people of many faiths were in attendance. She looked a little surprised but said, “I don’t know much about your beliefs but I know this is where I’m supposed to be right now.”
We joined hands and knelt carefully on the hard tile floor. I took at deep breath offering my own silent prayer asking for help to say something of value and comfort to this dear troubled woman
I felt a rush of the spirit roll over me like a wave as I began to speak. As I prayed her tears increased until heaving sobs wracked her whole body. She also nodded and quietly repeated the word, “Yes” after nearly every phrase spoken. Tears slipped down my own cheeks as I felt her burden lift.
Afterward, we embraced and exchanged words of love and appreciation for the love of God in our lives. “I always knew God loved me. Thanks for reminding me that he won’t ever stop,” Dorothy said as she disappeared into the crowd.
Never in my life had a been so humbled by such a simple request.
When Life Give You Scraps -- Make Quilts
This is a story I wrote after my dad passed away. I actually won a writing contest with it.
When Life Gives you Scraps -- Make Quilts
It was around Thanksgiving six years ago when mom and dad stopped into my husband’s office with the news. The cause of dad’s headaches and memory loss was not simply “old age” as dad had stubbornly tried to convince us, but rather a lemon-sized tumor interwoven in the blood vessels in his brain. I was stunned. My sixty-year-old father still had things to do, corny jokes to tell, broken toys to fix, future grandchildren to meet, and most importantly, advice to give to his daughter.
As the cancer conquered all, the days grew long but the weeks quickly disappeared and by March the end was close. “Dad,” I said in a quiet moment near the end, “I’ll be O.K. if you want to let go and go Home. We’ll take care of mom. I’ll do my best to make you proud of me.” His ability to speak was long gone but his face relaxed and he patted my arm. I knew he had heard me. The next morning he moved on.
Over the next year, I often found myself with the phone in my hand ready to call and ask which kind of paint to buy for the fence or when to plant the peas. Each time I would catch myself and smile. Oh how I wished for e-mail access to Heaven.
As the holidays approached again, the excitement was shadowed with a morsel of melancholy. At the family party, delicious food was eaten, gifts exchanged and songs sacredly sung and at the end, mom brought out four unexpected packages from the closet. As we pushed aside the tissue, we could see the patchwork of my father’s life transformed into the makings of a quilt. My mother had carefully taken my dad’s infamous plaid wardrobe and lovingly pieced them into an heirloom for each of us.
As my hand glided across the squares, it stopped abruptly on the fabric of his hideous bathrobe. It had chased off many late night pranksters with toilet paper in tow, met many potential suitors and lit more Christmas morning tree lights than I could possibly remember. For a moment I desperately wished that once embarrassingly loud garment would make an unexpected entrance. My four-year-old son sensing my sadness quickly commented, “Mom, whenever we need a hug from Grandpa all we need to do is wrap up in our quilt.” The gift of a father’s loving embrace – what could be better than that.
When Life Gives you Scraps -- Make Quilts
It was around Thanksgiving six years ago when mom and dad stopped into my husband’s office with the news. The cause of dad’s headaches and memory loss was not simply “old age” as dad had stubbornly tried to convince us, but rather a lemon-sized tumor interwoven in the blood vessels in his brain. I was stunned. My sixty-year-old father still had things to do, corny jokes to tell, broken toys to fix, future grandchildren to meet, and most importantly, advice to give to his daughter.
As the cancer conquered all, the days grew long but the weeks quickly disappeared and by March the end was close. “Dad,” I said in a quiet moment near the end, “I’ll be O.K. if you want to let go and go Home. We’ll take care of mom. I’ll do my best to make you proud of me.” His ability to speak was long gone but his face relaxed and he patted my arm. I knew he had heard me. The next morning he moved on.
Over the next year, I often found myself with the phone in my hand ready to call and ask which kind of paint to buy for the fence or when to plant the peas. Each time I would catch myself and smile. Oh how I wished for e-mail access to Heaven.
As the holidays approached again, the excitement was shadowed with a morsel of melancholy. At the family party, delicious food was eaten, gifts exchanged and songs sacredly sung and at the end, mom brought out four unexpected packages from the closet. As we pushed aside the tissue, we could see the patchwork of my father’s life transformed into the makings of a quilt. My mother had carefully taken my dad’s infamous plaid wardrobe and lovingly pieced them into an heirloom for each of us.
As my hand glided across the squares, it stopped abruptly on the fabric of his hideous bathrobe. It had chased off many late night pranksters with toilet paper in tow, met many potential suitors and lit more Christmas morning tree lights than I could possibly remember. For a moment I desperately wished that once embarrassingly loud garment would make an unexpected entrance. My four-year-old son sensing my sadness quickly commented, “Mom, whenever we need a hug from Grandpa all we need to do is wrap up in our quilt.” The gift of a father’s loving embrace – what could be better than that.
I Believe in Students
This was published in a local paper several years ago.
I Believe in Students
I believe you cannot teach a person anything unless they want to learn it. Just ask the mom of the toddler who refuses to potty train. True and lasting learning takes place only when the learner assigns value to the information and chooses to retain it. In our time when education is a hot topic in every election and legislative session, theories on how to fix our educational system are many.
I believe the key to solving the leadership and educational crisis in America today lies not in larger budgets and federalized curriculum. Rather, the only real solution to our educational woes lies in a place no one has thought to look: with the actual student. When students get inspired by great teaching to study, learning actually takes place.
In this country we have it all wrong. We want our young children to enter preschool at age 2, learn to read at age 4, and then sit for long periods of time on hard chairs at desks. The research of renowned child psychologists Jean Piaget and Eric Erikson show these methods to be ineffective because children learn best through play in unstructured, loving environments. The love of learning should take priority over the learning itself.
Then as students mature and developmentally can handle the more rigorous academic work, many are burned out by years of testing, pushing and trying to measure up. Parents add to the cycle by encouraging their children hang out at the mall, play on every sports team and fill each moment with a myriad of social activities.
I believe we need parents, teachers and politicians to lead out and inspire students to choose for themselves the difficult and painful road of getting a great education. When students study, they get great education. When students memorize, cram, do busy work, an equally predictable result occurs – a poor to mediocre education.
The great leaders and thinkers of history were all inspired by a teacher, parent or mentor to recognize that they each had a unique contribution and mission to fulfill in life. Helen Keller overcame physical challenges to become an author and scholar because an inspired teacher looked beyond the outward appearance and into her soul. Former President Lyndon Johnson overcame a serious learning disability when a teacher saw his potential and read his assignments to him aloud after school. They developed vision for themselves because they were inspired to love learning. The desire to gain knowledge to fulfill this vision became the motivating force behind years of study. Nearly without exception, this intense study period began in their youth under the watchful eye of parents and mentors rather than at a university.
I believe the responsibility for learning should be placed back on the shoulders of the only ones who can make a lasting difference: the student. Schools should be a place where teachers are given the freedom to inspire and innovate rather than require and test. Other methods of instruction such as coercion, external rewards, punishment, rote memorization and fear of failure can have short term results. The long term consequences, however, are being manifested in our country today as a serious leadership crisis, not just in government, education and business, but in the family as well.
I believe we have the power to reverse this trend because I believe in the youth of America. They are special. They are waiting for the challenge. They are the future. We as their parents, teachers, and government must pull our heads out of the proverbial clouds and reignite the flame for learning. America’s next generation of leaders, scholars, workers, mothers and fathers are counting on us to help them discover their unique genius. Let’s not let them down.
I Believe in Students
I believe you cannot teach a person anything unless they want to learn it. Just ask the mom of the toddler who refuses to potty train. True and lasting learning takes place only when the learner assigns value to the information and chooses to retain it. In our time when education is a hot topic in every election and legislative session, theories on how to fix our educational system are many.
I believe the key to solving the leadership and educational crisis in America today lies not in larger budgets and federalized curriculum. Rather, the only real solution to our educational woes lies in a place no one has thought to look: with the actual student. When students get inspired by great teaching to study, learning actually takes place.
In this country we have it all wrong. We want our young children to enter preschool at age 2, learn to read at age 4, and then sit for long periods of time on hard chairs at desks. The research of renowned child psychologists Jean Piaget and Eric Erikson show these methods to be ineffective because children learn best through play in unstructured, loving environments. The love of learning should take priority over the learning itself.
Then as students mature and developmentally can handle the more rigorous academic work, many are burned out by years of testing, pushing and trying to measure up. Parents add to the cycle by encouraging their children hang out at the mall, play on every sports team and fill each moment with a myriad of social activities.
I believe we need parents, teachers and politicians to lead out and inspire students to choose for themselves the difficult and painful road of getting a great education. When students study, they get great education. When students memorize, cram, do busy work, an equally predictable result occurs – a poor to mediocre education.
The great leaders and thinkers of history were all inspired by a teacher, parent or mentor to recognize that they each had a unique contribution and mission to fulfill in life. Helen Keller overcame physical challenges to become an author and scholar because an inspired teacher looked beyond the outward appearance and into her soul. Former President Lyndon Johnson overcame a serious learning disability when a teacher saw his potential and read his assignments to him aloud after school. They developed vision for themselves because they were inspired to love learning. The desire to gain knowledge to fulfill this vision became the motivating force behind years of study. Nearly without exception, this intense study period began in their youth under the watchful eye of parents and mentors rather than at a university.
I believe the responsibility for learning should be placed back on the shoulders of the only ones who can make a lasting difference: the student. Schools should be a place where teachers are given the freedom to inspire and innovate rather than require and test. Other methods of instruction such as coercion, external rewards, punishment, rote memorization and fear of failure can have short term results. The long term consequences, however, are being manifested in our country today as a serious leadership crisis, not just in government, education and business, but in the family as well.
I believe we have the power to reverse this trend because I believe in the youth of America. They are special. They are waiting for the challenge. They are the future. We as their parents, teachers, and government must pull our heads out of the proverbial clouds and reignite the flame for learning. America’s next generation of leaders, scholars, workers, mothers and fathers are counting on us to help them discover their unique genius. Let’s not let them down.
What Makes a Good Parent
What Makes a Good Parent
I’m the meanest mom on my block and maybe in the whole world. You don’t believe me?
I’ll prove it.
One night a neighbor called and explained her kids were convinced she was the meanest mom in the whole world, well at least on our street anyway, so she was taking a survey.
“What time do your children go to bed?” she inquired.
“Eight o’clock,” I answered boldly.
“Really? That’s great! You are meaner than I am,” she beamed. “My kids will be so relieved.”
I wear this meanness mantle with pride. It is quite a daunting task but I’ve always liked a challenge. If I was going to start a Mean Mom’s School, here are some of the classes that would be part of my curriculum.
Class #1 – The Gentle Art of Child Slave Labor
I begin assigning chores to my children at the tender age of three. Why when all those other toddlers are glued to Barney and Disney videos, my dear, deprived children start to work! It only gets worse as they grow older - they have to learn to do laundry, dishes, cooking, vacuuming, bathrooms, lawns, weeding, snow removal and (gasp) clean their own rooms. They must also earn their own money to pay for summer camps, skiing, and the basic stuff they want to buy. SHOCKING.
Class #2 - How to be a Religious Zealot in 4 Easy Lessons
Can you believe that we actually pray about 6 times each day as a family? After the first prayer, the repressiveness continues as we read and discuss scriptures. Outrageous, I realize but I have this skewed, crazy idea that when children learn about God and talk to God they actually may want to be like him. Insisting on respect for adults by calling them by Sister or Brother or Mr. or Mrs. - now that is just plain weird. Don’t get me started on that church meeting we attend each Sunday.
Class #3 - Educational Fanaticism for the 21st Century
Obviously, the government should control learning. It worked so well in Nazi Germany. But that mean streak in me is alive and well. I actually make my children choose things they want to study. It would much easier for them if I simply poured facts into their brains but funny thing is I think brains should actually be used. The fact that I subject my children to hours of reading aloud, lively discussions, and writing is beyond torture. And those field trips we go on… simply reading about nature, animals and rockets would be so much more convenient than actually being outside, visiting the zoo and building our own rocket. That I as a parent may actually have some insight and understanding about how my children learn and that I would be qualified to teach those children myself is quite the bold idea. I should simply stamp RADICAL across my forehead.
Class #4 - Hurling Yourself Out of the “In Crowd” 101
My boys are convinced we are the only family on this blessed earth that does not see any PG-13 movies and only selected PG movies. We are the peculiar people within the peculiar people. My children must actually tell where they are going, what they are doing and with whom. Tyranny reigns supreme. Why can you believe that I don't allow my children to be involved in extremely time-consuming activities away from our family unit? I realize nice parents run children to dance, soccer, friends, baseball, art class, karate and piano all in the same day. Nice parents also eat fast food in the car because, my word, who would want to hassle of sitting down at a real table and eating and talking together. Can you believe the gall I have for not going to work outside the home to pay for my children to wear designer clothes? Sheesh!
I’m sure I have erased any doubt about my meanest mom status. The crown is clearly mine. And finally I leave you with one last nugget of wisdom: MEAN MOMS OF THE WORLD --- UNITE!
I’m the meanest mom on my block and maybe in the whole world. You don’t believe me?
I’ll prove it.
One night a neighbor called and explained her kids were convinced she was the meanest mom in the whole world, well at least on our street anyway, so she was taking a survey.
“What time do your children go to bed?” she inquired.
“Eight o’clock,” I answered boldly.
“Really? That’s great! You are meaner than I am,” she beamed. “My kids will be so relieved.”
I wear this meanness mantle with pride. It is quite a daunting task but I’ve always liked a challenge. If I was going to start a Mean Mom’s School, here are some of the classes that would be part of my curriculum.
Class #1 – The Gentle Art of Child Slave Labor
I begin assigning chores to my children at the tender age of three. Why when all those other toddlers are glued to Barney and Disney videos, my dear, deprived children start to work! It only gets worse as they grow older - they have to learn to do laundry, dishes, cooking, vacuuming, bathrooms, lawns, weeding, snow removal and (gasp) clean their own rooms. They must also earn their own money to pay for summer camps, skiing, and the basic stuff they want to buy. SHOCKING.
Class #2 - How to be a Religious Zealot in 4 Easy Lessons
Can you believe that we actually pray about 6 times each day as a family? After the first prayer, the repressiveness continues as we read and discuss scriptures. Outrageous, I realize but I have this skewed, crazy idea that when children learn about God and talk to God they actually may want to be like him. Insisting on respect for adults by calling them by Sister or Brother or Mr. or Mrs. - now that is just plain weird. Don’t get me started on that church meeting we attend each Sunday.
Class #3 - Educational Fanaticism for the 21st Century
Obviously, the government should control learning. It worked so well in Nazi Germany. But that mean streak in me is alive and well. I actually make my children choose things they want to study. It would much easier for them if I simply poured facts into their brains but funny thing is I think brains should actually be used. The fact that I subject my children to hours of reading aloud, lively discussions, and writing is beyond torture. And those field trips we go on… simply reading about nature, animals and rockets would be so much more convenient than actually being outside, visiting the zoo and building our own rocket. That I as a parent may actually have some insight and understanding about how my children learn and that I would be qualified to teach those children myself is quite the bold idea. I should simply stamp RADICAL across my forehead.
Class #4 - Hurling Yourself Out of the “In Crowd” 101
My boys are convinced we are the only family on this blessed earth that does not see any PG-13 movies and only selected PG movies. We are the peculiar people within the peculiar people. My children must actually tell where they are going, what they are doing and with whom. Tyranny reigns supreme. Why can you believe that I don't allow my children to be involved in extremely time-consuming activities away from our family unit? I realize nice parents run children to dance, soccer, friends, baseball, art class, karate and piano all in the same day. Nice parents also eat fast food in the car because, my word, who would want to hassle of sitting down at a real table and eating and talking together. Can you believe the gall I have for not going to work outside the home to pay for my children to wear designer clothes? Sheesh!
I’m sure I have erased any doubt about my meanest mom status. The crown is clearly mine. And finally I leave you with one last nugget of wisdom: MEAN MOMS OF THE WORLD --- UNITE!
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Cleaning the Bathroom and Other Impossible Tasks
After much fasting and praying, I have come up with a bathroom cleaning list for my children to follow. Please note that all my children are readers now so I have ditched the pictures. Also this really helps if another child must 'pinch hit' even when it is not their regular job. Sometimes they 'forget' how to clean it properly.
You may be wondering why it is do detailed. Well, after many conversations in which the children have exclaimed, 'I didn't know putting the dirty rags in the laundry and putting away the cleaning supplies was part of cleaning the bathroom' or my personal favorite 'So when did cleaning behind the toilet become part of the bathroom job' (Hmmmm.. I don't know...Maybe when it became part of the bathroom...Ya think?), I decided to write out exactly what I meant by cleaning the bathroom so no one could misunderstand my expectations.
After several months of this method, I must raise my hands in the air and shout 'Hallelujah!' because it it working. Jessica was my apprentice for several weeks and now has the job exclusively. Our bathrooms has never been cleaner. Hope this is helpful to someone else who is bathroom cleaning challenged.
Steps to Cleaning and Beautifying the Bathroom
Items needed: Toilet Cleaner Tilex
Window Cleaner Cleaning Wipes
Toilet Brush Foot Stool
Shower/Floor Rag (wet) Mirror and Faucet rag (dry)
Hand Broom and Dust pan
Step 1: Roll up rug and carefully remove. Take outside and shake. Turn on the fan.
Step 2: Remove items from top of toilet. Put cleaner in toilet.
Step 3: Remove soap, shampoo and other items and spray Tilex cleaner on shower walls and in tub.
Step 4: Use brush to clean inside toilet. With a cleaning wipe, clean outside of toilet and around the floor by toilet base. Put items back on top of toilet.
Step 5: With a rag or brush, clean tile in the shower. Wipe along the top of the tile. Clean around top of tub. Clean inside of tub. Shine faucet with a dry rag. Rinse out thoroughly. Replace soap, shampoo, and item items.
Step 6: Remove all items from the floor. With rinsed shower rag, wipe along baseboards and the outside and inside of the door and frame.
Items needed: Toilet Cleaner Tilex
Window Cleaner Cleaning Wipes
Toilet Brush Foot Stool
Shower/Floor Rag (wet) Mirror and Faucet rag (dry)
Hand Broom and Dust pan
Step 1: Roll up rug and carefully remove. Take outside and shake. Turn on the fan.
Step 2: Remove items from top of toilet. Put cleaner in toilet.
Step 3: Remove soap, shampoo and other items and spray Tilex cleaner on shower walls and in tub.
Step 4: Use brush to clean inside toilet. With a cleaning wipe, clean outside of toilet and around the floor by toilet base. Put items back on top of toilet.
Step 5: With a rag or brush, clean tile in the shower. Wipe along the top of the tile. Clean around top of tub. Clean inside of tub. Shine faucet with a dry rag. Rinse out thoroughly. Replace soap, shampoo, and item items.
Step 6: Remove all items from the floor. With rinsed shower rag, wipe along baseboards and the outside and inside of the door and frame.
Step 7: Dust all pictures, light fixtures and other items on walls
Step 8: Use a dry rag and clean and shine mirror. Watch for streaks.
Step 9: Sweep the floor and behind the door and toilet. Spray a light coat of cleaner on floor. Start in corner behind toilet and clean with a rag moving toward the door.
Step 10: Clean out top drawer and 1 other drawer per week.
Every week: Top drawer: organize all hair items, throw away trash, clean out toothbrush container, wipe out drawer.
Weeks 2 & 3 : Second and third drawers: Remove items – organize, put things away that don’t belong, rinse and dry containers, wipe out drawer.
Step 11: Remove/put away items and soap dispenser from counter. Spray lightly with cleaner being careful to avoid the mirror. Wipe down counter and sink. Shine faucet. Put items back on counter
Step 12: Put dirty rags in laundry. Put away cleaning supplies. Replace rug
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