Where he used to be neat and make his bed every day, there was now stuff dripping down the walls. I’m pretty sure he started using his curtains as a snot rag, and he somehow started believing eating in his room was the only way to have a meal.
I took it upon myself one day (after realizing that I could ask him to clean his room all I wanted and he was going to continue to lie to me saying he did it after shutting the door in my face) to clean it for him.
My thought was that he would see how clean it was, step into his room and feel so much better and want to continue the warmth and tinglies by keeping it clean by himself.
I was wrong.
Anyway, I noticed while tucking in the sheets after making his bed that there seemed to be a few things making their way under the frame, so I reached under there and pulled out a sweatshirt. Which was dragging some black slime which I later found out was the remains of a few old banana peels. By old, I mean months old.
After kneeling down to see what else was under there, I became so horrified and had no idea how he could fall asleep with the bacterial frenzy that was dancing just a foot underneath him. I still have to clench my ass cheeks when I think about it (and it was almost six years ago).
I went downstairs to grab the hand trowel from the garage because that was the only way I was going to retract everything from under that bed — my hands sure as hell weren’t going to go rogue and reach under there.
I’m still not sure of everything I saw under there because I’ve tried to erase most of it from my memory. There were some very stiff pieces of clothing, probably an entire kleenex box full of used (ahem) tissues, about a thousand dollars in change, some school papers he obviously didn’t want me to see, some half-eaten cheese sticks, his retainer he was supposed to be wearing every night, and the outfit I’d given him that year for Christmas.
I did it a few times after that, but honestly, that was all I had in me. Let’s just say I am going to wait until he moves out and will be rolling up the entire carpet from his room (complete with all the under-bed goodies) and burning that shit down because I don’t know how else to deal with the cesspool that lives under my sleeping child.
I’m so glad I’m not the only one who has a kid that hoards things under their bed and treats that part of their room like a dumpster because apparently, a lot of teenagers find it too hard to walk to the nearest garbage can and throw their shit away.
Amanda Nighbert’s post on TikTok about pulling her son’s bed away from the wall and seeing what was under there went viral for a reason: because parents like to know their kids aren’t the only ones living like a hoarding hamster.
I’m not sure how these kids can sleep next to a bag of half eaten hot Cheetos or fall asleep knowing there are millions of dollars in returnables (filled with ants) under there, but it seems to be #trending among our teens.
Maybe you look under your teen’s bed on the regular (you are so brave). Or perhaps you’re like me and avoid that fuckery because it haunts your dreams and you have gotten really good at pretending there aren’t paper plates filled with sticky old coagulated ketchup with lint and clothing tags stuck to them.
Whichever way you go, that video is relatable as fuck because most teens prefer to throw shit under their bed instead of the trash can where it belongs.
The video ends with her son cleaning his sty with the vacuum and all, and I’m now wondering how she got him to do that.
I’m also going to spew out a guess and say it’s not going to last, because I have three teenagers and I’m here to tell you — it’s only a matter of time before it’s a trash heap again.
In fact, I’m too tired to ask them to clean up their under-bed messes at this point and I’m not going to do it myself. My only hope is a giant cockroach will come hissing at them in the middle of the night and set them straight. But it had better stay under the bed with the rest of the things that make my stomach turn.
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