Brian Kantz, Buffalo, NY-based writer and editor

THE NEWBIE DAD - FEBRUARY 2009

Me, a Greek God? Oh, Go On

Every now and then, I wonder how things would be different if my wife and I switched roles — that is, if I went off to a full-time job every day and she stayed home with the kids. Would our two boys be smarter? Possibly. Would they be more polite? Maybe. Would they eat fewer pancakes? Probably. Would they wear socks that match? Yes. Would our house be cleaner? Definitely.

Yes, I’ll admit it. The place could be a bit tidier. Drop by our house unannounced and you’ll be tiptoeing over toys in the living room, moving aside old mail just to take a seat at the dining room table and, hopefully, ignoring that ball of dog hair in the corner of the kitchen.

It’s not that I don’t like to live in a clean home. Believe me, I prefer clean. It’s just that, well, you know, it is… the kids. Yes, the kids. And the dog. Keeping a home — with two young boys and one old dog — clean is a formidable task.

I’ve learned within the last year that “clean” is a temporary state at our house, very temporary. Like 45 minutes temporary, if I’m lucky. That’s because I’m playing against three opponents whose primary objective is to make our house look like the unkempt dwelling of a preschool fraternity.

I load the dishwasher. Suddenly, two more sets of dirty cups, plates and silverware appear on the kitchen counter. I vacuum. Next thing I know, our two-year-old son is tossing handfuls of potting soil from the ficus plant onto that no-longer-clean carpet. I supervise the boys as they put their books back on the bookshelf. After walking away for a moment to answer the phone, I return to see those same books strewn across the floor once again. And I clean the toilets. Ten minutes later — well, you know how inaccurate a little boy’s aim can be.

That doesn’t even count the dog. For her, I Windex the front window only to have nose marks reappear the next time a haughty little bichon frise strolls down our sidewalk. I sweep the hardwoods, only to have the pooch regurgitate a bit of her food on the floor. Sorry to be gross, but old dogs who eat too fast occasionally toss their kibble. And the dog hair — forget about it.

So, I finally came to the conclusion that it’s not worth giving our house a major scrub-down until guests — very important guests — are scheduled to arrive. Recently, my parents came to town and, since they do qualify as very important guests, I went to work.

The day before they arrived, I cleaned the house room by room. After working eight straight hours — two hours of actual cleaning and six hours of fending off my little opponents — the place looked immaculate. I went to bed that night knowing that my dear mother, who miraculously kept a clean house while raising four boys, could enter my home without being swallowed up in the squalor.

Unfortunately, it took the boys all of one hour the next morning to trash the place. By the time my folks showed up, the floors were littered with toys and the end tables were the place where empty sippy cups go to take a nap.

I shook my head and, for some reason, felt the need to explain to my father. “Dad,” I said, “you might not believe this, but I spent the entire day yesterday cleaning up this house.” He looked around and chuckled. “I’ll tell you,” I continued, “I feel like that one dude from Greek mythology, Sisyphus. I’m just rolling the boulder up the hill, watching it roll down, and rolling it up again.”

Then my dad, assessing the situation even more accurately, said, “No, Brian, I think you’re actually in charge of cleaning the Augean Stables.” Not knowing my Greek mythology too well, I asked my dad to elaborate. “Well, Augeas had these stables with an immense herd of cattle who just kept, you know, dirtying the stable. He couldn’t keep up.”

We both burst out laughing. It’s reassuring to know that I’m in such good company.


Brian Kantz



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	THE NEWBIE DAD - FEBRUARY 2009 Me, a Greek God? Oh, Go On Every now and then, I wonder how things would be different if my wife and I switched roles — that is, if I went off to a full-time job every day and she stayed home with the kids. Would our two boys be smarter? Possibly. Would they be more polite? Maybe. Would they eat fewer pancakes? Probably. Would they wear socks that match? Yes. Would our house be cleaner? Definitely. Yes, I’ll admit it. The place could be a bit tidier. Drop by our house unannounced and you’ll be tiptoeing over toys in the living room, moving aside old mail just to take a seat at the dining room table and, hopefully, ignoring that ball of dog hair in the corner of the kitchen. It’s not that I don’t like to live in a clean home. Believe me, I prefer clean. It’s just that, well, you know, it is… the kids. Yes, the kids. And the dog. Keeping a home — with two young boys and one old dog — clean is a formidable task. I’ve learned within the last year that “clean” is a temporary state at our house, very temporary. Like 45 minutes temporary, if I’m lucky. That’s because I’m playing against three opponents whose primary objective is to make our house look like the unkempt dwelling of a preschool fraternity. I load the dishwasher. Suddenly, two more sets of dirty cups, plates and silverware appear on the kitchen counter. I vacuum. Next thing I know, our two-year-old son is tossing handfuls of potting soil from the ficus plant onto that no-longer-clean carpet. I supervise the boys as they put their books back on the bookshelf. After walking away for a moment to answer the phone, I return to see those same books strewn across the floor once again. And I clean the toilets. Ten minutes later — well, you know how inaccurate a little boy’s aim can be. That doesn’t even count the dog. For her, I Windex the front window only to have nose marks reappear the next time a haughty little bichon frise strolls down our sidewalk. I sweep the hardwoods, only to have the pooch regurgitate a bit of her food on the floor. Sorry to be gross, but old dogs who eat too fast occasionally toss their kibble. And the dog hair — forget about it. So, I finally came to the conclusion that it’s not worth giving our house a major scrub-down until guests — very important guests — are scheduled to arrive. Recently, my parents came to town and, since they do qualify as very important guests, I went to work. The day before they arrived, I cleaned the house room by room. After working eight straight hours — two hours of actual cleaning and six hours of fending off my little opponents — the place looked immaculate. I went to bed that night knowing that my dear mother, who miraculously kept a clean house while raising four boys, could enter my home without being swallowed up in the squalor. Unfortunately, it took the boys all of one hour the next morning to trash the place. By the time my folks showed up, the floors were littered with toys and the end tables were the place where empty sippy cups go to take a nap. I shook my head and, for some reason, felt the need to explain to my father. “Dad,” I said, “you might not believe this, but I spent the entire day yesterday cleaning up this house.” He looked around and chuckled. “I’ll tell you,” I continued, “I feel like that one dude from Greek mythology, Sisyphus. I’m just rolling the boulder up the hill, watching it roll down, and rolling it up again.” Then my dad, assessing the situation even more accurately, said, “No, Brian, I think you’re actually in charge of cleaning the Augean Stables.” Not knowing my Greek mythology too well, I asked my dad to elaborate. “Well, Augeas had these stables with an immense herd of cattle who just kept, you know, dirtying the stable. He couldn’t keep up.” We both burst out laughing. It’s reassuring to know that I’m in such good company.