minor catastrophes

      I grew up non-Mormon in the suburbs of Salt Lake City, which is to say, my family was in the minority. But my brothers and I had lots of Mormon friends, and I was in awe of the average Mormon mom, who ran her household like a sparkly-clean business. Shelves were labeled with items that belonged there (neatly stacked, of course), job charts decorated with stickers hung on the fridge, and casseroles were frozen into tidy little Tupperware blocks and labeled with the days of the week they were to be eaten. We’re talking a level of home management that would make even Martha Stewart feel like a dung beetle.
     Once in a while, when it looks like I’m living on the set of Animal House and realize this is completely my fault, I try to channel my inner Mormon mom. WWMMD: What Would a Mormon Mom Do? That’s how I came up with these handy little reminder notes, which no one pays any attention to.

     Maybe the notes are too subtle. I have no idea anymore; I left Utah 18 years ago. Perhaps I need to personalize them, and craft messages intended to cut through the impenetrable layers of the male brain:

    Dear Oldest Son,
    Thank you for leaving your socks on the counter next to my coffee. You usually leave them on the floor or the couch, but I’m touched by your concern over my having to bend over so much. So handy just to be able to take a swig of coffee AND clean up your putrid socks at the same time.
    By the way, you know how the consequences generally match the crime? Yeah, well you can forget that. Next time your friends come over I’ll be wearing my special Cougar jammies. You don’t mind if I flirt with your friends a little do you?
    Cheers,
    Mom

    Dear Middle Son,
    I see that you’ve left your whittling knife and wood shavings in the same place they were two days ago when I told you to clean them up. “In a minute, mom,” you said. Just like you always do. The thing is, the knife’s still here, and I’m feeling stabby right now. I’m just sayin.’
    Love,
    Mom

    Dear Shawn,
    There are so many things I love sharing with you. The bathroom isn’t one of them. Do you see this chart next to the toilet? Each day of the week you get to “log” your daily business. And every time you remember to flush your dookie, you get a smiley face sticker. If the toilet paper tube is empty and you replace it with a new roll (you little overachiever, you!), well, who knows what might happen. Tiger.
    Love,
    Me

    Dear Youngest Son,
    You are hereby given notice: If you are found wearing any piece of clothing for more than three days in a row, it will be immediately stripped off your body and BURNED. This is America. We wear clean clothes each and every day here, pal. If that doesn’t work, I will wait until your next sleepover and explain to your friend that even though you’re 11, you still occasionally nurse — strictly for comfort reasons — before bedtime.
    Good luck with that. It’s your choice. Wear clean clothes every day, or live the life of a friendless, smelly freak.
    Love you,
    Mommy