Things to Do

Things to do:

Pick up Dog poo by gate

Mow front lawn

Fertilize both lawns

Weed side yard (behind Kobe’s cage/by Milan’s fence)

Weed driveway

Weed area by gate

Weed front bed (by bedroom window)

Clean room

Laundry

Clean litter boxes

Wash Stang’s Kennel bedding, vacuum carpeted area, “Odoban” the carpet thoroughly.

So the oldest son (Child #3) looks at the list (which I’ve taped to the mirror in the entry) and says:  "Mom, this list doesn't say who's supposed to do what." 

I say "You mean, you can't figure it out by yourself?" 

He replies "Nope. I guess we won't do anything then." 

I respond "Guess you'll both be in trouble." 

(Him) "Hmm."

So this leaves me feeling a myriad of emotions; ranging from ‘What a horrible mother I am’ to ‘I hope they figure this stuff out soon’.  I mean, #3 is chronologically an adult.  Not voting age or drinking age, but an adult by age nonetheless.  And #4 is well, on the beginning of the journey of teen-dom which crashes crazily from the peaks of “Yes I can do it” to the depths of “But I’m too young!” and every extreme in between the two.

I am still struggling with the most efficient way to communicate with these two beings that came from my body.  They are as different as they are the same and as frustrating as they are endearing.  A simple request like “load (or empty) the dishwasher” is an exercise in repetition and persistence.  On MY part.  For them, it’s an assignment in ignoring the obvious, avoiding responsibility and escalating the blood pressure of adults in their environment.  They win, every time.

I’ve attempted to make detailed lists; outlining tasks by child, by day, by time.  Nothing.  I’ve tried single word requests, followed by charges immediately trailed by commands for one.simple.thing.to.be.completed.  Zip. 

Bribes Financial Motivation?  Tried that.  Taking money away for jobs not completed?  Yup, that too.  Restriction and loss of material goods?  Been there, still doing that.  The truth is that I am emotionally exhausted in micromanaging them but the alternative is not managing them at all and either doing their jobs or living in squalor; neither which fit into my master plan of peaceful living.

They are responsible for their own laundry; the trade-off is that they either have no clean clothing, wear wrinkled or dirty things out of the house (thereby embarrassing their obviously to blame maternal unit) or complain that they have nothing to wear.  Of course, sometimes they start laundry; leave a load in the washer and another 6 loads on the floor of the laundry room.  For weeks.  Ad infinitum.  After a few weeks, it’s nearly impossible to get to our (adult) laundry without taking out a life insurance policy or hiring a body guard.  I’m pretty sure that the mound of laundry could be replicating and magnifying; but it could just be my paranoia.

Chores are shared; #3 is responsible for Garbage and partial dishes (every other day unload; opposing days load); #4 is responsible for Recycling and the other half  of the dishes.  #3 feed the cats and cleans the litter box; #3 feeds the dog and cleans up after him; also feeds the dragon.  They are each responsible for keeping their own rooms clean and beds changed, putting away food and wiping table and countertops when asked.  #3 also is asked to mow and edge the lawns; #4 is supposed to help keep the outside toys picked up.  It’s really not much to ask of two able-bodied boys.  One would think however, that they were being asked to build the Taj Mahal with their own widdo-biddy hands.

#4’s room hasn’t been truly clean since the last time fatherly-parental unit cleaned it 6 months ago.  There have been moments where the floor has been visible or all laundry has been washed and dried (but not folded or put away); minutes where clothing has actually been hung on hangers in the closet; actual days where the door could open and close without requiring a haz-mat unit.  I have threatened, removed, and bribed materially motivated said child.  Nothing.

What’s even funnier to me (as in strange, unexplainable) is that #3 is in a mood because parental units (namely father at the pleading of mother) turned off his internet connection.  No internet connection?  No problem!  Apparently he just intended to play games that did not require one.  This lead to a shining moment in parental frustration where fatherly unit unplugs the offending electronic device while it is running (this causes a shift in the equilibrium of the technological world as everyone knows it is possible to completely shut down the world as we know it by unplugging a computer while it is running and therefore damaging the oh-so-stable operating system).

Evidently, no internet and no plugged in computer-type unit means that the teenage unit (#3) feels led to turn on the device from hell known as the “Wii”.  Clearly removing the remote controls from the television did not clearly signify my intent.  Loud voices (Yelling, bellowing and shouting) ensue and #3 is forced to flee to outside terrains in the sunshine and pleasant weather sometimes called ‘summer’.

(Insert visions of mother and father units scratching their heads).  This is not working as intended.  Obviously my children ARE smarter than their parents and we are, in fact, as stupid as they think we are.

There are other children to terrorize supervise, so I decide to step away for a bit and regroup my forces.  This, of course, signals victory for #3 and discrimination for #4 who loudly complains about the unfairness of “it all”.  #4 is sent to his room to clean.  Still.  Again.

I manage to block out #3 and his drama for the day by doing laundry, cleaning, writing, playing for hours on Facebook until it is time for #4 to attend football practice.  #3 has been seen weeding (see list above) over the course of the day so I claim obvious victory (insert laugh track here).  However, all is not as it seems and #3 is now playing on the Wii again as he has located the hidden remotes and controllers (Note to readers:  hiding the remotes in your underwear/bra drawer is not as much of a deterrent as believed).

I take #4 to practice and when I return #3 is stealthily hacking at weeds (again, see list above) impersonating a hard working gardener who takes pride in his work.  I take this as a perfect time to institute “Operation Livid Mom” and begin to pack up all evidence of electronic devices formerly known as “Wii” in a huge box (those candle parties come in handy sometimes).  Of course this means I pack up the exercise platform (I used it for about 3 weeks and promised to use it more about a million times), every game and controller and cord.  In a fit of agitation I quickly call a friend and ask to store the HUGE box in their garage.  Psychologists would have a field day with our family.  

All offending Nintendo devices and offspring are removed and I realize that now I must dust (read:  “Clean”) and spend another hour in a happy-homemaker rage dusting, sorting, vacuuming, cleaning and generally doing what I should have done weeks months ago.

So to recap:  Lists do not work unless you are a rational adult.  I don’t do enough housework. My children are smarter than their parents.