I hate to beat a dead horse!

They were staring at it like ancient cavemen who had just invented the wheel. Of course this observation can be used for any instance involving the cleaning of anything. I'm referring to the Holy Grail of slovenly family habits; putting a fresh roll of paper on the roll. Why?!?!? It's like they've barely graduated from rubbing against a tree like bears. By the way, just how stupid is that commercial? When they first came out, their biggest selling point was that this particular brand of tissue didn't leave any lint behind. All I could hear was that it didn't leave any lint on your behind. I guess that's why they changed the wording. Regardless, if that's something which bothered you, you are either a contortionist or clearly have too much time on your hands.

Do your teenagers still need you?

This is a question I ask myself a lot as I watch my older girls turn into young women. The oldest is nineteen, a sophomore in college, drives her own car, and occasionally makes her own money. The next one is sixteen, incredibly self reliant, and possibly the most stubborn person I know. Most of the time she walks around with a sense of self assurance that would make a Supreme Court Justice take a course in confidence building. But don't be fooled. When it comes to handling their own problems, that five-year-old they think they left behind in kindergarten will reappear.

If you've paid any attention at all to your kids over the past decade, you should be able to read the signs. With the oldest, I'm addressed as 'mommy' when she wants something, and 'mom' with anguish when she's distressed. With the second, it's just tears. This is significant because she's not a crier, and is embarrassed at the thought of having to wear her emotions on her sleeve. And the chances are she's exhausted every other possible solution to her problem before coming to her parents. This is good.

It's good because she's tried to solve the problem on her own. It's good because after she's seen she can't solve the problem on her own, she moves on to a higher power, and I don't mean a round robin of her usually clueless friends on Facebook. I think this is what all parents want. We want kids who are self reliant, but we want them to be able to turn to another source once they've hit a wall.

This is why I don't question my approach to parenting. I'm not at all concerned that because I provide structure, discipline and love, that my kids will grow to hate me. Put simply, I don't care if they don't like washing dishes or folding clothes. Making their beds and doing their homework is a part of their life at present. Sure, we sometimes have bitter fights over the need for clean bathrooms and swept floors, but at the end of the day, my kids know that I'm their staunchest defender and their biggest fan.

The boy we never had...

Why is it that we expect little girls to be cleaner in the bathroom? My part-time princess, part-time quarterback distinctly has some male tendencies. Every time I go into the bathroom, she's left a little surprise on the potty seat as well as in the bowl. I actually listen. When she's done, there's no flush and no running water. Do you think she's just trying to save water? Her radical wanna be left wing sisters have certainly schooled her in the art of being a faux environmentalist. We can hardly pass a large SUV on the street that she doesn't scream "Tree Killer!" Though I notice her righteous indignation over the state of clean air and water seems to fly right out of the window as she's dropping the wrapper for an ice cream sandwich on the ground. To be fair, her attention span is shorter than that of a husband, which makes it almost non-existent.

So this is the day before the first day of school and we have big plans. She's getting hair cut really short, and yes there is an explanation. My girl/boy has absolutely no respect for her hair, and as such treats it badly. Her hair is already dry, she swims constantly and rubs the back of her head on the carpet. So of course, she has major breakage. In addition, she hates having her hair done each day; the combing, brushing, curling, oh my! All things being equal, I think she'd rather take a bullet for Hannah Montana.

I offered her the option of getting her hair cut short, and she jumped on it faster than Jon Gosselin on a 22-year-old. I took her to a local barber and it took less than ten minutes. She's thrilled. Then it's on to the mall to get her ears pierced. Okay, this didn't go so well. She was really excited at first, but then as reality set in, she changed her mind.

Once we got home, she asked, "Are you disappointed in me?" Of course, I told her no, then she burst into tears, saying how much she really wanted to get her ears pierced. So, I took her back to the mall, back to Claire's and she jumped into the seat. Throwing her arms around me, she buried her head in my shirt, the two technicians loaded their guns, and in a half a second, it was done.

She didn't flinch and came up smiling. "Is it over? I didn't even feel anything!" For the next ten minutes, my six-year-old showed her earrings to everyone who would look and listen. She then picked out some new earrings, and walked out of store feeling like the coolest first grader on the planet.

I had one of those days when I was feeling completely unappreciated by my husband and daughters. On those days I take to my bed and say very little to them, and that's when they know something's wrong. For the next hour, I'll get that uncomfortable stare from the hallway, my family wincing as they ask the ridiculous question, "What's wrong, Mom?"

Sometimes, it just gets to be too much. After twenty years of marriage, I should expect that my husband can pick up on some of the clues, but you'd be surprised how dense men can still continue to be about these things. I guess I have to be married to him for thirty years before he figures out that a dirty house makes my skin crawl. (This is another issue all together and maybe I do need some therapy for OCD. No, I just like a clean house!)

The kids....well, they're just kids. Nineteen, 16 and 5, and unfortunately they're doing just what they should be doing; bitching, whining, and wailing. Guess there's not much I can do about that without sporting an orange jumpsuit and sharing a really ugly dorm room with a convicted felon.

I know I'm not alone. So, like a good housecleaning, I had it out with just about everyone and cleared the air. Now I realize in the long run, my house will never be a clean as I want it to be, but for right now, I'm feeling a little bit better.