El Hubbo is gone to another stock show. It is also Spring Break and our home continues to be a battleground for the willful and consistently annoyed under-7 population. I don't really get Spring Break, but I did choose to take a couple vac days to spend catching up around the house. I had the perfect plan - the kids would be at the daycare - El Hubbo is in Houston, so I could lay out my to-do list and really whittle down on the incredible long list of things that never seem to get done around here.
I kept my little plan underwraps. You see, if El Hubbo were alerted to the fact that I was taking a couple days off, he would have scheduled out my entire day, filling it with errands and chores for him. I have learned that lesson - so now my vacation days are Top Secret: Need to Know Status only. It's not as though he takes vacation days and spends them cleaning closets, mopping floors and wiping floorboards, sorting out the kid's toys, packing up clothes they have outgrown for the garage sale, etc. His vacation days involve rigorous activities such as reaching over for the remote to the tv in the bedroom to watch midget wrestling for an hour or so, followed by getting up to go to the kitchen for a snack then strolling to the recliner to watch back-to-back episodes of Alaska Troopers. If he's really lucky, there is a Sons of Guns marathon on. Whew! That schedule just wears me out typing it.
Jake would rather follow in his father's footsteps when it comes to vacation days. As he's grown older, there have been some chores he has been assigned to do - especially when his father is out of town. The chores are extensive: feed Rocky and put him outside in the morning, pick up toys/clothes in room, put away folded laundry, take trash bags to the garage. Wow. Exhausting stuff, that is. This week has been quite the battle as he has decided to rebel against doing his chores. One such battle ended with Jake informing me that he felt "like I'm just a servant for you and daddy!"
You can imagine how I felt. Really? A servant. Ya think? Did someone clue him in to the fact that parents really only have children to have someone to do the chores they don't want to do? I could feel my temper rising. This precocious, spoiled, little child of mine thinks he's just a servant. It was time to lay a little knowledge on the brat (I can call him that, he's mine.) It is moments like this that cause lions to eat their young: "Jake!" I roared. "If you think this pouting, whining, nonsense is going to work, you have another thing coming! Who fixed your dinner? Who washed your clothes? Who vacummed, swept, mopped, dusted? Who did the dishes? Who cleaned up your nasty, stinking bathroom? I ask you to FEED YOUR DOG, and you decide to throw a fit and tell me you feel like a servant?! You think you are a servant? I can make sure you feel like one!" At this point, I am wandering around the house like a crazy woman, yelling at the walls and sounding exactly like my mother did thirty-plus years ago. I'm pretty sure the ranting continued for another good five minutes as I walked around putting things away and slamming drawers. Funny thing about me in these states - I get a weird Irish accent. Emma follows me to my room, and I hear her say, "Mama, why are you talking like that?"
As the first rush of adrenaline subsided, I returned to his room, where the ungrateful wretch was hiding, having figured out that perhaps he had crossed a line, or maybe he really had driven me to the looney-bin.
"Son," I say. (I was calmer at this point. Ok, maybe not calmer - I'm pretty sure I had the look of a gangster boss who had just found out his mortal enemy had crossed his territory. Controlled fury might be a better description.) "I do not appreciate your attitude. Everyone in this house has chores and responsibilities. As you grow older, you will have more of them. I serve you and Emma and Daddy. You will serve me, daddy and Emma. We will all serve each other so that we can take care of all the things God has blessed us with. If you choose not to do this, then you will not continue to enjoy these blessings. Understand?" (Imagine finger-pointing and providing emphasis to each word.)
He looked up at me, and asked, "Which blessings? My video games or my toys?" Obviously, he was trying to decide if he could do without some of the blessings. "All of them. Nothing but a bed and a dresser in your room, and you will still have to do all of your chores, even if I have drag your little hiney around the house to get them done." I reply. He thought a minute and decided maybe feeding the dog was not such a bad thing to have to do.
I couldn't help but think of Bill Cosby, and I have more than once thought about parts of his comic routine and how my life and kids exemplify them. His line, "I made you, I'll make another" kept coming to mind. You'll be happy to know that Rocky has been fed, the laundry is put away, and the toys are picked up. Jake is fine and continues to be blessed. For now. I'm pretty sure that we'll have to keep working on this servitude attitude for a while longer as neither of my children give up any fight that easily.
I kept my little plan underwraps. You see, if El Hubbo were alerted to the fact that I was taking a couple days off, he would have scheduled out my entire day, filling it with errands and chores for him. I have learned that lesson - so now my vacation days are Top Secret: Need to Know Status only. It's not as though he takes vacation days and spends them cleaning closets, mopping floors and wiping floorboards, sorting out the kid's toys, packing up clothes they have outgrown for the garage sale, etc. His vacation days involve rigorous activities such as reaching over for the remote to the tv in the bedroom to watch midget wrestling for an hour or so, followed by getting up to go to the kitchen for a snack then strolling to the recliner to watch back-to-back episodes of Alaska Troopers. If he's really lucky, there is a Sons of Guns marathon on. Whew! That schedule just wears me out typing it.
Jake would rather follow in his father's footsteps when it comes to vacation days. As he's grown older, there have been some chores he has been assigned to do - especially when his father is out of town. The chores are extensive: feed Rocky and put him outside in the morning, pick up toys/clothes in room, put away folded laundry, take trash bags to the garage. Wow. Exhausting stuff, that is. This week has been quite the battle as he has decided to rebel against doing his chores. One such battle ended with Jake informing me that he felt "like I'm just a servant for you and daddy!"
You can imagine how I felt. Really? A servant. Ya think? Did someone clue him in to the fact that parents really only have children to have someone to do the chores they don't want to do? I could feel my temper rising. This precocious, spoiled, little child of mine thinks he's just a servant. It was time to lay a little knowledge on the brat (I can call him that, he's mine.) It is moments like this that cause lions to eat their young: "Jake!" I roared. "If you think this pouting, whining, nonsense is going to work, you have another thing coming! Who fixed your dinner? Who washed your clothes? Who vacummed, swept, mopped, dusted? Who did the dishes? Who cleaned up your nasty, stinking bathroom? I ask you to FEED YOUR DOG, and you decide to throw a fit and tell me you feel like a servant?! You think you are a servant? I can make sure you feel like one!" At this point, I am wandering around the house like a crazy woman, yelling at the walls and sounding exactly like my mother did thirty-plus years ago. I'm pretty sure the ranting continued for another good five minutes as I walked around putting things away and slamming drawers. Funny thing about me in these states - I get a weird Irish accent. Emma follows me to my room, and I hear her say, "Mama, why are you talking like that?"
As the first rush of adrenaline subsided, I returned to his room, where the ungrateful wretch was hiding, having figured out that perhaps he had crossed a line, or maybe he really had driven me to the looney-bin.
"Son," I say. (I was calmer at this point. Ok, maybe not calmer - I'm pretty sure I had the look of a gangster boss who had just found out his mortal enemy had crossed his territory. Controlled fury might be a better description.) "I do not appreciate your attitude. Everyone in this house has chores and responsibilities. As you grow older, you will have more of them. I serve you and Emma and Daddy. You will serve me, daddy and Emma. We will all serve each other so that we can take care of all the things God has blessed us with. If you choose not to do this, then you will not continue to enjoy these blessings. Understand?" (Imagine finger-pointing and providing emphasis to each word.)
He looked up at me, and asked, "Which blessings? My video games or my toys?" Obviously, he was trying to decide if he could do without some of the blessings. "All of them. Nothing but a bed and a dresser in your room, and you will still have to do all of your chores, even if I have drag your little hiney around the house to get them done." I reply. He thought a minute and decided maybe feeding the dog was not such a bad thing to have to do.
I couldn't help but think of Bill Cosby, and I have more than once thought about parts of his comic routine and how my life and kids exemplify them. His line, "I made you, I'll make another" kept coming to mind. You'll be happy to know that Rocky has been fed, the laundry is put away, and the toys are picked up. Jake is fine and continues to be blessed. For now. I'm pretty sure that we'll have to keep working on this servitude attitude for a while longer as neither of my children give up any fight that easily.
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