Choredom

The expressions on the faces above often mimic those on the faces of my own children.  No, not when they are in danger, or in fear for their lives, or even faced with taking the dreaded cough medicine.  Rather, it is how they look when they are told they have to do chores.

The shock!  The horror!  The doom!  How could I possibly expect them to give up even thirty minutes of their daily lives to help out around the house?!  What kind of mother am I?!  Other children, it has been brought to my attention by my eldest daughter, get paid to do chores.   So why don't my children get paid too?  Ah, it all comes down to the almighty dollar.  Where's the love, I ask you?

I explained to my children that chores are part of pitching in and helping out as part of the family.  We all have our part - even us parents.  Nobody particularly enjoys chores.  I mean, I would much rather be floating on a raft in a pool with a large, cool iced tea than pushing my Hoover and pulling weeds from the garden; who wouldn't?  But things need to get done and we all need to take responsibility in doing our part. We all have some part in making the dirty laundry, the dust, the dirty dishes, etc., so we all take part in cleaning up. 

At first, the kids loved to do chores.  They were toddlers and helping out was fun.  It was part of being "big" and doing "grown-up" things.  That, unfortunately, didn't last long.  Even toddlers know that making the messes is far more fun than cleaning them up.  So, when that fad wore off, I had to come up with a way to get my kids interested in doing chores;  An incentive that would make them want to do chores without having to pay them regularly.  That's when the "room fairy" was born.  The "room fairy" would visit every morning and look at each child's room.  She would look for neatness, if the bed was made (age appropriately), if toys were picked up in the rest of the house, and she would give a star to the child who had the most items picked up and neatest bedroom that day.  The child with the most stars at week's end got a little prize. (Dollar store prizes - sticker books, balls, etc.)  Once in awhile, there would be a three-way tie and there would be a special dinner out to their favorite pizza place or a special movie rental or some other such prize.

The room fairy worked for a very long time... years in fact.  I loved the room fairy.  We were very good friends.  With her help, my kids' rooms were kept relatively neat and their toys were picked up from the rest of the house.

But, within the past six months or so, the kids have kicked the room fairy to the curb.  (The tooth fairy still flies in on occasion... maybe she pays better!)  So, I have had to change strategy.  When school ended and summer break started, we all kicked back the first week and just enjoyed not having to run anywhere, do any homework, or abide by a tight schedule.  I work from home, so I was able to adjust my schedule to spend time with the kids.

As one week turned to two, however, I started to notice that I was picking up after the children more and more.  And as the third week rolled around, I noticed that not only was I cleaning up after my own children, but all the neighborhood kids that flocked to our house as well.  My children were becoming "beach bums" without the beach.  Dirty clothes and wet towels on the floor, toys and laptops lying about, dirty dishes left wherever they had last been eaten from, sticky fingerprints on every surface, bikes and toys lying about in the driveway all made it apparent that it was time for action.

I quietly went to my office and made each child a chore chart.  I hung their chart on their bedroom doors and then when their father got home, we held a family meeting explaining the new method of chores.  There was a little protest at first, but I told them that it was up to them when they did the chores each day.  The catch was there wouldn't be any tv or computer time until the chores were done.  If chores were not done at all that day, then privileges could be taken away.  We had the talk about how this would teach them responsibility, which I hope they heard.  Knowing children though, it probably went into their heads more like blah, blah, blah, responsibility, blah, blah, teamwork, blah, blah, blah.... 

The most protesting, as you may imagine, came from my preteen.  But my husband and I pointed out that we have our chores too and that their chores added up to a half hour or less a day.  My middle child, Sarah, does great with this method.  She is a true creature of habit.  So she gets up, checks her chart, does her chores, and goes about her day.  And Christopher does well with it too.  The checklist actually helps keep him on track since he tends to get distracted so easily.  Even Jessica has quit complaining and has realized she can breeze through her list pretty quickly.  And just the fact that they were told they can decide when to do the chores each day made them feel in control of some part of the situation.

As for payment for chores, there is the occasional job that is "above and beyond" they get paid for, like helping clean out the basement or garage, washing the cars, etc.  But for the most part, the kids do seem to be learning that chores, as boring as they are, are part of the teamwork of being a family.  And as for the room fairy, she will remain a fond memory for me of their childhood.

Meet Mr. Nobody

Did you ever find yourself wondering who "Nobody" is and why he is always getting into so much trouble?  In our house, if something breaks, "Nobody" broke it; if there was grape juice spilled on the carpet, "Nobody" did it.  And, if there is marker on the wall, you can bet that "Nobody" is the guilty party.

I always thought that with three children, the blame would be more evenly spread.  Boy, was I wrong!  It is interesting what causes children to not want to confess to a wrong-doing or an accidental mishap.  We have never hit or spanked our children, so there is no fear of corporal punishment there.  The biggest punishment they have faced to date is loss of computer privileges or being grounded to their room for a day or two.  We really try to make the punishment fit the crime, so to speak.

We have always tried to instill in our children the importance of telling the truth and how it is linked to trust in a relationship.  We have also told them that though they might get into some trouble for a wrong-doing, it will also be worse if they are caught in a lie.  Yet, still, "Nobody"  resided at our house from time to time.

My oldest daughter has a difficult time blaming "Nobody".  Her face is as easy to read as a picture book.  She tried telling me she had finished all her lunch when she was about four-years-old one day.  I knew she couldn't have finished in the few seconds I had left the kitchen, so I checked the garbage can and, sure enough, found her lunch there.  When confronted with the evidence, the guilt overtook her and she cried.  I didn't even have to punish her she felt so bad.  She never lied after that to my knowledge.  She has withheld some information for a period of time. But eventually it eats at her until she spills it at bedtime one night or another.   

My son has been the one recently caught blaming "Nobody" a couple of times.  The first time, it was a minor incident and we had a chat and moved on.  I thought the matter was behind us.  But a week later, as I worked on my computer, I heard a crash come from the dining room.  It was the kind of crash where there is a loud thunk followed by shattering glass and makes a mother go running.

Upon arrival at the scene, I found my son standing near my china cabinet, one cabinet door on top open, its glass panel now missing, shattered on the floor.  My son stood as still as a statue, perhaps thinking if he was very still I wouldn't notice him there; like maybe my eyesight was that of a T-Rex and I could only detect movement!

My first concern, of course was his safety.  I told him not to move and asked him if he was ok.  He told he that we was.  I reiterated not to move so that he wouldn't step on glass and I went around and lifted him out of the area of the shattered glass.   Upon inspecting him for any cuts and finding none, I asked him what happened.

"Nothing," he replied.  "I was walking by and the glass just fell out!"  Hmmm.  Now, I am no detective, but I play one in my world, so I suggested to my son that we examine the evidence. I pointed out how what he said happened was impossible unless he had opened the door and moved the tabs that held the glass in place.  I showed him how the glass sits in a grooved ledge with tabs and with the door shut, it was inconceivable for the glass to just fall out.  I also reminded him of our talk the previous week about lying and its consequences.  Now the look of guilt swept over his face.  He cracked!

"I did it," he said.  "I opened the door to try to turn on the light inside on the top and when I did, the tabs moved and the glass fell out."  Aha, my dear Watson!  I do believe we've got it!

I decided it was time to make an impression on my little storyteller.  So I told him a story of my own.  I told him a story of this book I read once called the "Scarlet Letter" and how this lady did something wrong and had to wear a big red "A" on her dress everywhere she went so that everyone would know what she did.  I told him to imagine if we all had to do that with everything we did wrong!  How terrible that would be.  I said, "Can you imagine if you had to wear one of those stickers that says 'Hello my name is...' and write 'liar' in it?!"  "Yikes!  That would be pretty embarrassing wouldn't it?"  He just nodded his head as his eyes grew as big as dinner plates.

Now before anyone gets upset, I would never, ever make my children wear that label.  I was just telling him the story of how that lady had to do that and planting an image in his mind of "what if"....  I never told him he would have to wear one.  I did, however tell him, he would have to write an essay on why lying is wrong and how it breaks our trust in one another while he was grounded.

He did write a wonderful essay.  And the combination of the story and the essay must have done the trick, because he hasn't lied since.  He has been faced with the decision, but when I ask him to remember to tell the truth, he says, OK, I did it.  "Nobody" seems to have disappeared, for awhile anyway!

"Momdar"

As a mother, I have come to learn that it is my job to know, at all times, where every belonging of every family member in my household is. From a husband's lost wrist watch to a son's missing shoe or a daughter's crucial missing accessory-of-the-day, the object is to be on my radar, which I like to call "momdar" at all times. It holds so true that somehow, all children and fathers believe that mothers have some "momdar": Some magical global tracking device on every object on the planet (except our own, of course) that allows us to precisely locate anything they may have misplaced with pinpoint accuracy and within a fairly reasonable amount of time too. It is amazing. I mean, we moms could all work for NASA.


A perfect example of this came this past February. I had recently undergone a radiation treatment for cancer, and being radioactive, did not want to come into close contact with my young children. (It could damage their thyroids, long story short. But, I digress.) Given the circumstances, I had quarantined myself in a nearby hotel for the weekend.

That night, I received an urgent sounding phone call from my oldest daughter Jessica, who tells me that her father told her to call me. Right away, my heart skips a beat as I think someone must be hurt or there has been an accident or some other terrible family emergency has occured for me to be getting such a phone call when I (unbeknownst to them) am not feeling well.

"What's wrong?", I ask her. "Is everything OK?"

"No," she replies. In a split second time lapse my mind is racing through terrible things that might be wrong. I am starting to go into panic mode! Then she says, "do you know where the Reese's Pieces are that I bought the other day to use in the brownies I am making?" (And now in my mind I am both relieved and want to hang up on her for causing me that moment of worry and the ten extra gray hairs!)

Now, I had no prior knowledge of the existence of these candies in our household at all. I never saw them, never heard of their purchase, until this phone call.

So, I reply to her, "no sweetie, I didn't even know we had any."

This obviously was not enough to satisfy her. Apparently I was not lucid enough to pick up on the fact that she was waiting for my "momdar" to kick into action. So she pressed further.

"I bought them the other day for the brownies I made and now the brownies are done and I want to put them on top and I can't find them!" (My husband, Brad, helpfully chimes in in the background that the bag is about one-and-0ne-half pounds, huge, and hard to miss. Yes, apparently so hard to miss that they-who-cannot-find-it-in-the-same-house-with-them think I will have much better luck spotting it from several miles away!)

At this point my patience is growing thin, but I calmly try to walk my daughter back through steps I think she might have taken when she might have purchased them while trying to think like my preteen in the process.

"Did you check the snack cupboard, the baking cupboard, the garage where you take your shoes off before you come inside?", I ask. She replies "no" to all.

"Did you sit them by the computer? In the kitchen? The dining room?, " I ask again.

"No, no, and no," Jessica replies, sounding more urgent than ever. Her brownies are cooling and she must, absolutely must get those Reese's on soon or it will be too late!

(At this point, I am thinking that the grocery store is only two blocks away and they should just go buy another bag!)

I turn my "momdar" on high power and give it one more try. I ask her when she bought them. She tells me she bought them when she shopped for Valentine's Day with her dad. OK, now we are getting somewhere. I remember now she hid those gifts in her bedroom. I send her to her room to look. She tells me they are not there.

Now, I know how my oldest daughter searches for things. If she walks into a room and turns her head once to the left and once to the right and does not see the object in site, then it is not in there. She does not believe in moving things around and looking under and between things. So, I do a little redirect.

"Where did you hide the presents you bought your friends and siblings for Valentine's day?"

"In between my floor pillows," she replies. "but I already looked and they are not there."

I tell her to look again. "Momdar" is on full alert now! And.....

Crisis averted! Reese's found in the nick of time to add to the brownies while still warm!

Once again a mom's radar has saved the day. Now if I could only use it to find my own car keys.

Introduction

For my first post, I thought I would introduce our family. When I first told my children that I was starting a blog about parenting and confirmed that yes, they would be a part of my postings, they were horrified! The gasps! What if their friends read it? What if word got out of secret family meetings?

The fact that their friends would be less likely to look up parenting blogs than they would be to voluntarily clean their rooms and serve their parents breakfast in bed completely escaped them. So, we decided to come up with fictional names to protect the guilty. (They each chose the names themselves.)

My name is Gianna, that is true. I am a working mother of three who just turned 40 (sigh, that's another article in itself). I am happily married to my college sweetheart and we celebrated 16 years of marriage this past spring.

The oldest of my three children is my daughter "Jessica". She is 12-1/2 going on 20. She is going into her second year of middle school and loves the internet and her i-pod, but still loves webkinz too. She is very outgoing and loves spending time with her friends.

My second child is "Sarah". She just turned 10 and loved being included into the "tween scene" her older sister has been a part of. She loves music, has a passionate personality, and wants to do everything her older sister does.

Our youngest is a son named "Christopher". He just turned 8 and even though he is the only one who looks like me, he is very much his father in his personality. I recently told a friend of mine that he has every quality in him that I fell in love with in his father. He is quite a charmer, very outgoing, and has the attention span of.... a gnat. But in a good way!

My husband also decided he wanted a pseudo name for my project, so we will call him "Brad". He is a devoted husband and father who works hard and makes sure he spends time with the kids too. Sure, we have our differences from time to time. I won't paint us as a perfect family, but we do love each other and we have a happy life.

My goal here is to share my experiences as a mom with you - the good and the bad - and hope that from that, you can see that we are not alone. And if you get some tips along the way, then that is a bonus! I will love to know that I have helped at least one person struggling with something out there.

And maybe, once in a while, I will bring a smile to your day! And that will make me smile too.