Mom or the Marines

It’s my day off from work and I’m up with the sun.
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It’s a Friday and I am infinitely grateful that my day off falls on a day that everyone else in my household is gone. Time to get it done…

It’s not even eight a.m. and I have:

• Made coffee

• Made Daniel’s lunch

• Dropped Shannon off at her friend’s house

• Cleaned the trash out of my van

• Started a loan of dishes

• Put a load of laundry away and started another one

• Read a book with Daniel

• Picked up the dirty towels off the bathroom floor

• Paid some bills

• Started a grocery list

• Got Daniel on the school bus

Finally, everyone is gone, so I can start my day!

All I can think to myself is that God must have a great sense of humor. When I was a kid, I thought my mom got to lie around, eat  bon bons and watch talk shows all day after we went to school. I had no concept of what it was my mother did all day. And now, in some sort of dark, twisted joke, God has decided to show me what my mom did all day. The absolute joke part is that I could not have been a lazier kid. So now here I am, running a household, working full time, paying bills and trying to keep some semblance of order to this house; the irony is not lost on me.

My mom did everything for me. Seriously, everything. If my room was a mess, she cleaned it. She did my laundry, all the cooking, the house cleaning and I parked my butt on the couch. When I was in college—yes, college—she would wake me for class, make my lunch, and iron my clothes so that I could get fifteen minutes more of sleep! I did so few chores growing up, my mom felt it necessary to document the occasion with photographs.

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I’m surprised she did not have that vacuum bronzed…

So now it’s my turn. I have to admit, my children do more around the house than I ever did, but that’s not saying much. I don’t fault my parents for letting me get away with being bum, but there’s no way my kids are going to be as ill-equipped to clean a house as I was. Of course, it’s the never ending story in my house; I beg, plead, bribe, cajole, threaten and break out the “Mom voice” to get the chores completed. They balk. All the while, I have that voice in the back of my head that says, “just go do it yourself; it will get done faster than fighting to get it done.” What parent doesn’t have that voice in the back of their head? I know that if I give in to that voice, though, not only have they won the battle, but also the war.

I have decided the next time I go to war with my children over chores, I won’t send in the Marines. Heck, I get more done before eight a.m. than they do all day.

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