Cuban Guilt

For those Cubans that read this blog, you will understand what I am referring to when I mention the Cuban mop. It's basically a stick shaped like a T, where you hang a towel on the lower end and mop. Then you take the towel off, rinse it off, ring it out, place it back on the stick, and continue mopping. Then you can easily wash the towel when you are finished. Usually, you use the oldest towel you own to do this type of cleaning.

Cubans beware: I don't own a Cuban mop (the horror! someone call the cops!).

My parents arrived in New Jersey last week for a 12-day visit that included their first visit to my new home and Thanksgiving hosted by their wonderful daughter.

A conversation began the morning after they arrived:

mom: do you have a mop?
me: no. i use the swiffer.

an hour later:
mom: do you have a mop?
me: no mom. i use the swiffer to clean the kitchen.

three hours later:
mom: do you have a bucket?
me: no.
mom: then what do you use when you mop?
me: nothing. i use a swiffer to mop the kitchen floor.

the next day:
mom: do you have a mop? i need a mop.
me: mom, i don't have a mop. i don't have a bucket either. i use a swiffer to clean the floor.
mom: why don't you have a bucket? where do you put the dirty water when you mop?

Now, I cleaned the house right before my parents arrived. Everything was spotless. Yet, my mother felt it just wasn't clean enough. Thus began the cleaning. Everyday, sweeping. Then the mop conversation. Everyday, people. Everyday. I hate the mop conversation already.

But if I say, 'listen ma, just stop it with the mop. just sit down and relax. there's no need to clean. please stop!,' I'm sure I'll get scolded.

Because in Cuban households, you never tell your parents what to do. Not even if it's your own house.

Ahhhhhh, here it comes. Can you feel it?

The Cuban guilt has arrived.