Chores

I’ve put my foot down these past few weeks in regards to making the kids get their chores done.  Before I went into the hospital my children had their list of chores, nothing too out of this world.
The Boy has to take care of the garbage in the house, while The Girl has to take care of the recycling.  They each take turns dealing with the Green Bin (compostable garbage).  They also do the dishes together after dinner each night.  One washes while the other dries, and the one that washes is supposed to load and turn on the dishwasher, the one that dries unloads the dishwasher.
On the weekends their work is divided into two rooms, the living room and the dining room.  On Saturday The Girl does the living room and The Boy works on the dining room, come Sunday they switch rooms.  Now when I say they work on the room, they have to tidy it completely, they have to dust ever surface, and vacuum up all the dog hair, and dry mop the floor.  They also are working on their own laundry.  Right now we’ve got them doing at least two load a week, and that includes their bedding.
I don’t think at their ages it’s too much to ask of them.
Before I went into the hospital I was the nice Mom, if they were running out of time or there was something special going on I’d just let them slide on their chores.

But now, no more.
Last night it took more than two hours to wash the dishes, they didn’t even run the dishwasher.
They started at 8:00 and at 9:30 I finally sent the Girl to bed because that’s her bedtime and the Boy flew a fit.  He went on and on about how that’s not fair because she didn’t have to finish her chores.  But the thing is he was the one dragging his feet, and I told him time and time again that if they weren’t done by the Girl’s bedtime that he’d be working on finishing everything up on his own, and he tested me and he realized that he wasn’t going to get away with it.
Come 10:00 I was still fighting with him.
I was trying to be nice, I told him the big baking dish that needed to be really scrubbed clean could be left.  I told him that I’d scrub it because firstly I wanted a good job done and secondly because I didn’t want them to ruin it by scratching the surface or something.  I told the Boy that everything else had to be done and he had to wash the sinks out once he was done.
The job of the person drying is to wipe down all the counters and rinse and put away the drain board and rack.
When The Girl went to bed, The Boy had to do all these jobs himself.
He proudly announced he was done just minutes before 10:00 and when I went into the room I found a nasty, dirty sink (food still laying in it for crying out loud!), the counters weren’t wiped, the draining board wasn’t even rinsed and it certainly wasn’t put away.  But the worst thing was that there was still about 7 dishes that he hadn’t washed.  And they weren’t even small items that he just overlooked, he left a plate (with food on it), a bowl (with food in it), two glasses with liquid still in them, a serving dish (with food left in it), the cutting board with pieces of veg still on it and the salad bowl (with some salad still left in the bottom of it).  Do you see the theme there?
I told him to finish those up, I reminded him that I told him the only thing to be left in the kitchen was the one baking dish

Advertisements

About katastrophes1

Kat is a 20 something girl stuck in a 40 something body. Mom to 3 kids, tormented and amused by 3 crazy dogs. Amateur photographer, self taught crochet junkie. Thinker of crazy thoughts. Where do they come from? Who knows where thoughts occur, they just happen!
This entry was posted in Kids. Bookmark the permalink.

Share Your Thoughts

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s