MARK MY WORD: IT'S TOUGH TO BE TOTO AND CLEAN UP THE HOUSE TOO

What would we do without parenting magazines?

The other day I was reading through a parenting magazine when I spied an article with a headline that commanded, "Get that Kid Organized."

The author suggested that parents can say goodbye to forgotten homework, lost books and last-minute chaos.

Naturally, I was intrigued. I love the thought of eliminating chaos.

But in our home, that's a tall order.

Chaos is alive and well at our house. I'm amazed how often our daughters, Becca and Bailey, lose their socks, shirts, shorts, shoes and hair brushes.

Our mornings often are spent racing through the house in search of that matching top or a particular pair of shoes.

Joni frequently has trouble locating her car keys on a busy morning. The keys often can be found buried beneath Becca's and Bailey's artwork, PTA newsletters and assorted debris from our lives that somehow wind up on our kitchen table.

It's as if our table is magnetized. Everything sticks to it.

Parenting experts say it is important to have a routine. We do. It's called Chaos A.M. and P.M.

It's habit forming. There's nothing quite like the adrenaline rush that every parent gets when their child suddenly remembers he or she forgot to do their homework the previous night.

It takes great concentration to make Becca's lunch and help her with homework at the same time.

Parenting articles, like the one I read the other day, suggest making "to do" lists.

But lists alone aren't the answer. Seven-year-old Becca loves to make lists. Cleaning up her room is on her list. It's just that she prefers to list it rather than do it.

Admittedly, it's tough to get organized for a full-throttle cleanup amid Barbie mayhem. The other day I found a pile of Barbies on the downstairs' treadmill. They were all stripped naked. I saw no sign of clothes.

Upstairs, I found the upper torso of a Barbie doll. I couldn't find the legs anywhere. Sometimes we wonder if there is a Barbie serial killer prowling around our house.

Anybody but a parent would be frightened by such an event. But parents are a tough lot. We know life can be weird and we're prepared to deal with it, at least up to a point.

As a dad, I've found life is a whole lot tougher to schedule these days. What is scheduled are things like birthday parties, swimming lessons and Becca's social life, complete with plenty of telephone calls to her friends.

At age 3, Bailey isn't thrilled with telephone talk. She prefers her communication to be up close and personal.

On Saturday, I scheduled some time to clean up the kitchen. But my task was interrupted by Bailey.

"Let's play the wicked witch of the East," she said, riding into the living room on a yardstick. There wasn't a broom handy.

"Daddy, can you be Toto?" she asked.

It's not every day that either of my daughters asks me to be a famous dog. But I can bark with the best of them, particularly when it's for the reenactment of a great movie like "The Wizard of Oz."

Bailey was thrilled to be the witch. She dressed up in a Halloween witch's costume and told me how the witch melts in the end.

"I'm not really melted," she assured me.

In her make-believe world, the Beanie Babies became flying monkeys.

I'm afraid I fell short as a dog actor. I couldn't fit in a picnic basket or ride easily on a yardstick.

Fortunately, Bailey overlooked my acting skills. At one point, my little witch vanished. I found her upstairs, putting on suntan lotion.

She didn't melt, but she did decide to cast off the witch's clothing in favor of a swimming suit.

None of this helped me clean up the house or control the chaos, but I didn't mind.

In our land of Oz, a little play time is a good thing. Shoes and socks are optional.

~Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.