What I really wanted to write about this week was sex. I thought that topic would spark some interest from moms, and that’s what this is all about right, getting moms talking.

But when I brought up the subject with my 19-year-old college student, he was not too keen on me posting a conversation he and I had about whether or not he was sexually active. So, instead I’m writing about the big issue these days with my 14 year old; getting him to clean his room.

You’re probably thinking every parent fights with their teenager about having a messy room, and so what’s so different about your son’s room. Well if you were to see it you would understand.

It is so bad I have threatened to call “Hoarders,” you know that reality television show. I’m not kidding. It is ankle deep in junk. The child has got so many clothes strewned over the floor you can’t even see the floor. I’m afraid to walk in there because I don’t know what I’m going to step on.

He stood behind me as I began to type this and said, “Oh my gosh mother. I know so many rooms that are far worse than mine is.”

Well, I don’t believe it.

Listen, Jordan has never kept a neat room, even when he was a little tyke. But when he was a little guy, mom had no problem helping him clean it up. I thought my helping him would teach him how it’s done. I’m here to tell you, that tactic did not work.

Also, back then he shared a room with his older brother who, by contrast, is extremely neat — so much so that he hangs his shirts on color coordinated plastic hangers and keeps all of his shoes stacked in the boxes they came in. When we moved to a larger house with four bedrooms instead of two, Trey, the oldest, was thrilled to have his own, very neat, space. Jordan, was thrilled too that he could spread out a little and not have to worry about his brother screaming at him to pick up his socks, his shirts, his shoes, his towels, his papers, his trinkets, his books, his everything.

I was thrilled not to have to breakup the sibling bickering.

I thought I’d give Jordan a little leeway. You know, let him be himself and not stifle the free spirit in him as long as it didn’t get too bad. So what if his desk was a little messy or if he didn’t always pick up his socks and shirts. I have a few messy piles of papers here and there myself. Or, if he didn’t make his bed every day. A little mess is a sign of genius some say.

Bull!

A little mess is just the beginnings of a big mess.

And when his mess started spilling out in to the hallway I figured, that’s it. E-nough!

This is a child who when he was about five, was dubbed the house germ freak. He wouldn’t share a bite of his food or a sip of a drink with even mom or dad for fear of germ exchange. If someone burped at the table while he was eating, he’d say, “Ok, now I can’t eat because you burped.” He didn’t like having dirt on him and he would check his glass for any specks and his plate for smudges. He still does that.

But he can step over top of mounds of junk on the floor and push aside all the crap piled on his bed and crawl into it to sleep, no problem. Even told me once, he likes it that way. I don’t get it.

Thank goodness he does adhere to the “No food in the bedrooms,” rule that I’ve always kept an iron fist on in the house. Otherwise, who knows what science experiments might be cultivating in that room.

I can’t say he’s never cleaned the room. His dad would roar at him and he’d get in there and make it look cleaned. But no one would open the closet for fear they’d end up buried in whatever might fall out of there. And I’m sure he shoved most stuff under his bed.

That’s all changing. This little situation is unfolding as I write. No, I’m not going to clean it for him. That would mean I lose and he wins. And, whether you believe it or not — THIS IS WAR.

I am putting my foot down tonight. I’m laying down the ultimatum of all ultimatums.

Writing this post has given me new moxie in this clutter conflict.

“Until that room is cleaned,” I firmly told Jordan this evening, there will be no more video game time allowed. I am a little worried though, because he just looked at me with those big doe eyes of his and calmly said, “OK.”

Hmmm… Too easy.

Maybe I should have added, and no reading either. Jordan reads like a hungry dog gobbles down food; he devours a good book. But what mother denies her child reading?

So, for now books are in. But I tell you what, if that room does not show some signs of a cleaning attempt when I get home from work today. I’m going to blow a gasket. I don’t scream at my kids. I stopped that when I seemed all I was doing was screaming. When I’m really angry I whisper, say their full names, and talk in a staccato.

“Jordan Greylan Williams… If … you … don’t… clean… that… room…right… now, there will be no television, no video games, no music, no books and no fun of any kind, FOREVER!!!! Stay tuned.