Are We There Yet?
Mom makes a mandate for thorough housecleaning
Lori Clinch

Much to my family's dismay, I called a family meeting last week and made attendance mandatory.

I know it sounds cruel, but a woman has to resort to tough love now and then just to keep her clan on their toes.

My loved ones view family meetings with great disdain - knowing full good and well that there are bound to be lists, lectures and, heaven forbid, the conception of a new rule or two.

Just the thought of a formal discussion will send some family members into hiding. Some will fake the flu, and still others will walk into the room with a packed bag and announce that they must take leave because they've been forced into the witness protection program.

Knowing full good and well that I would be met with unhappiness, I waited patiently at the head of the table with my jaw set and a dry erase board at my side. Since I had called the meeting, I appointed myself as chairwoman, presiding officer and - above all - the boss. I had a Bic to click, a laser pen to point and a gavel to bang to show that I meant business.

My family gathered under duress. They were not happy about this meeting and they wanted it to be noted for the record. My husband hid behind his newspaper and our young Huey slouched in the chair. Lawrence put his head between his knees and covered his head with his hands as if he were about to be pummeled, and Little Charlie held tight to a dinosaur and a bag of Legos as if he needed them for therapy to get him through.

Vernon, my eldest and wise-cracking child, showed up in a tan face and golf attire and impatiently tapped two golf balls together so as to let everyone know that he, for one, was way too old to be attending family meetings.

"Why are we here?" moaned Huey with a big sigh.

"Well," I said as I pulled out a flow chart, "as you may all know, we have a graduation party coming up and the house is anything but ready. Now I have here a list of changes that are to be made concerning responsibilities, and a compilation of new rules that, once enforced, will ensure us that we can have a home that we'll be proud to show others."

The boys reacted as they normally do when I mention the thought of sanitation. One plugged his ears and began chanting, another crawled under the table and hid, and Vernon doubled over as if someone had just punched him in the gut.

My husband of many years put down his paper and looked at me with raw fear. "Good heavens, Lori," he exclaimed, "what exactly are you planning on making us do?"

"Well, according to my calculations, if everyone completes the task laid out for him, the house should be shipshape within the week."

I waited for the moaning to cease and then proceeded without further adieu.

"I'd like to make a motion that all family members pick up their own dirty clothes. All constituents shall place their own dishes in the dishwasher; hands will remain off the walls and for Pete's sake, people, let's keep the food in the kitchen! I've appointed individuals to dig the socks out of the couch, the following subjects are responsible for scrubbing the jelly off the walls, and you, my dear Vernon, are in charge of gathering the athletic garb and putting it away."

It was as fine a motion as I'd ever proposed. I took a big swig of coffee, crossed my arms across my chest, sat back and waited for someone to second it.

One child's chin dropped, another's eyes welled up with tears. The chanting child stopped his chanting and gasped for air and my husband looked at me with a combination of shock and disbelief.

Finally young Huey spoke, "Why do we have to keep a clean house?"

"Yeah," Lawrence demanded in response.

"Who's gonna notice if the house is clean or dirty?" asked Charlie as he brushed a pile of crumbs to the floor.

"I make a motion that we deny the motion," said Vernon

"Yeah!" they all chimed in and then looked at me as if they had just killed the motion for once and for all.

Being a fair woman, I then decided to put it to a vote. The outcome, I'm happy to announce, was six for and five against.

"But, Lori," you might be thinking, "there are only six Clinches. How can there be 11 votes?"

Simple. Mom - who is no dummy, and no slouch as a parliamentarian - always gets six votes.

And that may explain why they don't like family meetings.

Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch.com.