Mom on the Run: All work and no glory for this mom

Lianne Wilkens/Columnist
Published: April 6, 2008

It's first thing in the morning, the kids are off to their buses, I'm dressed and ready for work and my husband has just walked in the door. He was on duty overnight, and appearing now—just before I leave—is great timing.

"Come here! I want to show you what I did last night," I take my husband's arm and escort him to the kitchen. I position him in front of the refrigerator and tease, "Close your eyes!" I open the door … "OK, open!" My husband's face glows, reflecting the refrigerator light, and he smiles, slowly at first but then a full-on grin. He bends forward, looks here and there, and: "Nice," he says, nodding. "Very nice."

The interior of my refrigerator is gleaming. It's still a little too full and disorganized for magazine ads, I've got tall salad dressing and marinade bottles mingling with milk and juice, but otherwise it's showroom quality, sparkling and tidy, a truly rare display of cleanliness for my house.

"I was watching 'Trading Spouses' last night, and the clean mom was telling the messy mom, 'You have kids. You have a responsibility to clean the bathrooms, every week. You need to clean the refrigerator, every week.'" The clean mom had delivered her message firmly, looking the messy mom in the eye, pausing for emphasis. Reflecting on my own fridge, I had cringed. So: "I sat there and I thought, I should clean the refrigerator. And then I thought, I could clean it right now. So I got up off the couch and I did."

My husband is nodding, smiling, impressed with the shine of the glass shelves, the whiteness of the sides, the absence of a whole lot of half-full jars.

"It took me an hour," I continue. My husband has straightened up and is moving to close the fridge door, but this was a huge effort on my part, bending and scrubbing and wiping with no help from the sloppy people who contributed to the mess, and I want a few more compliments. So I barrel onward. "It took two rags, a lot of cleaner, and a knife. I had to chisel off hardened jelly and maraschino cherry juice drips."

"Very nice," he says again, and then, "I'm going to take a shower." I know my moment is over, that's the final reveal, and all told, I got probably 30 seconds of glory, if you add up the commentary from all refrigerator users, most of whom were focused on themselves. "Why are there three tubs of cream cheese?" my daughter asked, after I unearthed and moved forward two extras. "Hey, we have whipped cream!" was my son's first remark, upon spying the can upright on the top shelf.

I like to think my family will remember and remark again later, maybe at dinner when they go to get the margarine or the milk, a casual, "The fridge really looks great." But because I know better and because I know it won't last, I open the door and gaze at my masterpiece again. "Awesome!" I whisper to myself, and smile.

Lianne Wilkens lives with her family in Manassas. She can be reached at .