When my hubby is gone this is what I wake up to.
As we drove to Casper today to deliver Zip to Miles and Alicia it occurred that I have a driver. I keep forgetting that I can choose to allow her to drive. I mean she has had her license for over a year now.
On the way home we have her the wheel. I chose to ride in the back and knit of course.
I am working on a howl-cat for Loganne. The yarn looks more pink, but it is purple.
John was clearly excited to ride with his sister at the wheel.
The worst is our rule has always been driver controls the radio. Well we are reaping what we sow there.
What has occurred in my house is almost unforgivable. It is an unjust that can not be undone. It is just so…..well hard to talk about. What my children have done to me is almost to much for me to carry.
You see I am a very odd type person. I hoard weird things. For example when we go out to eat. I never drink very much of my drink. I just don’t. I hoard it. I have it for later. My husband and my children never! They guzzle it all away and then in 15 minutes have nothing. Then there is Mom’s drink! I have mine because I don’t want to be thirsty later. I always come home with almost and entire drink left. Unless we are on a road trip and then I give it up to those who have nothing. It’s weird and it drives my family crazy.
Well at Christmas last year I asked my mother to make and send me two things. These two things remind me of home and remind me of her. Being 1500 miles away I wanted those memories at Christmas. Well she sent them. That’s right I got to large tins filled with coconut balls and peanut butter balls. I was never so happy. I opened my tins, took a look, smelled the aroma of chocolate, peanut butter, and coconut. I then took one small ball out and slowly enjoyed the taste. It lingered in my mouth. Each bite was pure heaven.
As I pictured my mother making these especially for me. Well I decided to hoard them. I put them straight into the freezer. I never mentioned to the family what was in the tins or that it was there.
Here comes the moment of pure double crossing. My children come upstairs this past Sunday, smiling and grinning! They laughed and laughed. When I finally asked they told me that they had been into my stash. What! You have been eating my candy. Yes, they had been slowly sneaking candy since Christmas. I opened my tin and I only had Five. Count them 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 left. I almost cried.
These are my balls. My candy! My candy made for me by my MOMMY!! Well what to do. I couldn’t yell at them. It was sent to us. As it was pointed out by my children it didn’t say to you only and you don’t eat it. It is true. I hadn’t eaten it since that one taste at Christmas. It is true that they need to be eaten because like all southern women, my mom will be wanting her tins back come June.
I learned something very important. Next year I will hide them at the hunting house!
Chores. That word alone will send every kid in any house across the world running for their room. Amazingly my kids find homework, they eat longer, they need baths, anything to get out of chores.
I don’t have small children. I have a ten year old and a fourteen year old. Yes, plenty old enough to start pulling some weight. Especially since it is their own messes that I am having to clean up. Moms, you know what I mean. There is a process to our cleaning.
- You have to day and you clean till your house is shiny. (well mine is kind of a sparkle in places.)
- Children come home. They remark “Oh, Mom it’s clean.”
- They sit and I swear decide how to destroy it the fastest. The eat in front of the tv. Which means dishes and wrappers gather themselves right on the floor. Backpacks, lunch boxes, jackets, gloves, hats and shoes clutter the mudroom. Dropped right as they walked through the door. The floor being clean means it’s time to drag out toys that I swear have not seen the light of day in months, but now must be played with and because we will play tomorrow must linger on the floor scattered in a battlefield position for the remainder of the week.
- Mom goes into complete psycho mode, cleaning and ranting about being a slave to her family and no one appreciating or helping. (Does this sound familiar to anyone? Anyone? I know your out there!)
Well this past week I met my end of the line. I was done. I am either going to get the kids to help or I am going to move to the hunting house and live in a very quiet, very clean, very peaceful home that only sees my mess. Yes, it will be lonely, but I can walk over to visit the pigsty they will be living in.
Okay I can’t move. It will be too hard to walk back and forth to do laundry and to make meals. But it is a thought. I decided to get serious and I created a wonderful chore chart. It is not overwhelming, but it is a list of what they must each accomplish everyday when they get home from school or after breakfast on the weekends. I decided that I would make the list easy to get done and easy to finish.
Here is the bargaining point!! They get no electronics, no wi-fi, NO NOTHING!! (I know very improper english and a double negative which I hate, but I had to use it here. Don’t tell my English teachers!) That’s right, they either do what is on their list or they can go get ready for bed and get a book. Well the book thing doesn’t bother my kids, they will read for hours, but I can’t take books away. They would die and so would I. We have that connection to our books. Plus if they do get the entire week finished, they get their allowance of $5.00. I think that is pretty fair.
Well So far it is working. I am holding my ground. I am making them clean up after themselves. I mean what kind of husband is my son going to be if he makes messes and expects his wife to pick up everything and wait on him hand and foot! Oh, dear. I should have started this long ago.