Suck It Up
By Caroline Schermerhorn
scherm@ee.net

I’ve got a case of the blues.
It’s the Vacuum Cleaner Blues.
It’s those dust-chugging, bar-beating, air-coughing, penny- jamming, loud-sounding, dust mite-filtering, money costing 237 dollar and 15 cent Blues.
They began last summer when I replaced that ancient twenty-pound steel-enforced Kirby vac Mom had given me. I should have kept it. I ended up buying three new vacuums in as many months. When I finally coughed up enough change for a two hundred thirty-seven dollar vacuum, I figured I’d won.
Last week it, too, gave up the ghost.
I was uncharacteristically enraged. I stomped my foot like a three year old. I yelled at the machine. I pleaded with it to tell me what was wrong. I fantasized picking the thing up and hurling it through my beautiful living room picture window – just to hear how it would sound.
When I confessed all this to the lady at the vacuum store she just nodded her head in sympathy. “I know just what you mean,” she said. “I once threw a vacuum right down the stairwell of an apartment building.” Yep. She knew exactly what I was feeling.
I shouldn’t complain. Considering what my appliances and tools go through, it’s amazing that they last a month. My cleaning crew consists of six children, ages 6 to 16, and me. Let’s face it, kids just don’t handle with care. They expect a vacuum to suck up pennies, Legos, and dirty laundry. They run over the cord. They jolt the thing down the steps.
On the other hand, I couldn’t possibly keep up without them. It’s takes a team to care for a family of eight. It begins at the age of three, when each child is taught to sort silverware to set the table, and to help mommy sort clothing. From there, they learn to vacuum. To make a bed. To feed the animals.
I’m not sure when I began expecting so much of the children. (Perhaps it was the day when I found out I was pregnant with our fourth.) I found it difficult to allow the children to work at their own pace and level. I’d cringe when dishes were chipped as they went from washer to cupboard. I’d hold my tongue when streaks were left on the windows. And I’d go back over the kitchen counters with a soapy sponge, after they’d cleaned the kitchen and gone out to play. Ever so slowly, it started to pay off. Today, the sixteen year old handles the laundry zone; a couple times a week, our laundry fairy leaves clean, folded piles of clothing on our beds. After dinner each night, I join my husband for a long walk, while the dish fairies clean the kitchen. On the weekends, many hands make light work as we work the yard together, ready to get on with the weekend fun. The occasional chipped dish or dying vacuum is a natural consequence, as we slowly add the six and seven year olds into the mix.
This isn’t just about cleaning house. It’s about growing character and responsibility. It’s about children learning that they are valuable members of the household. It’s about growing the esteem of little people who will eventually leave my home and run the world.
Given all that, I suppose it’s worth an occasional new vacuum. This time, I think I’ll buy two, and just turn my head the other way. At least it might save the big streaky window.

Simply Living is a privately syndicated weekly column, dedicated to preserving the joy – and the sanity – of modern family life. If you are interested in publishing Simply Living, please contact Caroline Schermerhorn at: scherm@ee.net.