Chores

I'm raising someone's future husband. I thought about that a few months ago when I was talking to Owen's teacher and she handed me his backpack and said it was heavy. I giggled and handed it to him. He's use to carrying the baskets of laundry and he would be just fine. She was surprised that I made him carry the laundry but my exact words to her were "I'm raising someone's future husband." I'd never really thought about it until them. I just thought that they should have to do chores too. Why should I be the only one to pick up their underwear off of the floor? (That will be a running theme to my blog, unfortunately.)

You see, I'm a mean mom. I make them do chores. Shane has to unload the dishwasher, run the vacuum cleaner and Owen is responsible for bringing the trash from upstairs downstairs, putting the shoes in the closet (most of which are mine) and bringing the laundry down. I was washing my clothes as soon as I could reach the dials on the washer with a stool so I'm not sure why they can't do chores. Oh....the boys grumble. Just like I'm sure that I did. And, yes, it would definitely be easier to do it myself. But, then they'll never learn. So I suffer. Just as my mom and dad did too I'm sure.

Actually, I'm sure that this payback is all part of my mother's diabolical plot. It began with "I hope that you have one just like you." Yes. Yes I do. I'm terribly sorry, mom. Just lift the curse, okay? :)

Confession time: I hated doing chores growing up too. What kid doesn't? I use to get mad at mom for vacuuming on Saturday morning when we were trying to watch Scooby Doo. How dare she make so much noise? And, on her only day off too. Sheesh. Mom, you'll be glad to know that Shane has now started whining at me when I vacuum while he's watching his toonies. Paybacks are hell.

Susan and I would leave our laundry in the washer and dryer until they molded or were so wrinkled they had to be rewashed. (You'll be glad to know that I'm now as neurotic as my mother. As soon as the clothes come off the body, they're in the washer. I understand that my grandmother (her mother) was like that too. It must be genetic.)

Anywho, I found out later that instead of listening to my mom grumble (read: b*&^h) at us for leaving clothes in the washer or dryer, my dad would just fold them for us. I'm sure that he put them in our rooms folded. And, I'm equally sure that they laid in the same spot that he put them until they 1) got worn again (at which time they would return to their natural place in the universe -- on the floor) or 2) until a friend borrowed them. Thanks dad. I know you did it for your sanity, but thanks for folding our clothes all those years. :)

/end confession

So...back to the point of the post. Chores. The boys do them.

Note Owen's laundry carrying technique. I cringed the first couple of times he carried the basket downstairs but now I just send him up to get it. This was not a posed shot. That is a full load of laundry. :)



































Shane in action. He had gotten lazy and was unloading the dishes onto the counter for me to finish. I introduced him to the stool and now he's putting them away. Grumble, grumble, grumble. I figure if he can climb up onto the counter to get to the candy, he can do the same with the dishes. Yeah. I know you do that. Don't think that you're getting away with anything with me, buddy.













They also have to make their beds and do their homework, which is never a struggle with Shane. Nope, not at all. I've also started making them carry the groceries into the house from the car. Except for the stuff that I don't want broken or squished. Like our beer. I'll bring that in myself. :)