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Broke Wife, Big City
Chores
By Aprill Brandon
I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I’m guessing it has
something to do with a mother’s natural inclination to try to do
everything herself. I mean, it’s hard to juggle 37 things at once by
yourself. But it can often be harder to ask someone to jump in and
match your exact rhythm to help you keep all those balls in the air.
Mom: I need help!
Random family member: Sure. What can I do to…
Mom: AH! WHY DID YOU LET ALL THOSE BALLS DROP!?!
Random family member: *lying on floor, dazed* Because you just threw 18
things at me in rapid succession.
Mom: Never mind! I’ll do it all myself! *murmurs what sounds
suspiciously like curse words under her breath*
But after the 2,091st time cooking breakfast while trying to set the
table while constantly hurdling small children and animals and toys
while on a tight timetable, I finally realized something had to give.
And that’s when I had my epiphany.
“Riker, come here, please!” I hollered to my 3-year-old from over the
baby gate that separates the kitchen from the dining room.
“What, Mommy?” he said, looking up at me with those big, liquid,
beautiful, trusting, brown eyes.
“Can you put this ketchup and butter on the table for me?”
“Oh! Sure, Mommy!”
And off he ran to do my biding, his little feet pitter-pattering and a
giant smile on his face.
But that’s not the best part. Oh, no. Because the best part is he came
BACK. And asked “what else, Mommy?”
“Holy crap,” I thought to myself. “How have I not thought of this
before? Children are just glorified servants. I can make him help me…
Sweet patron saint of stressed out mothers, I can pretty much make him
do anything. FOR I AM HIS MAKER!”
And so, after suppressing what can only be described as an evil laugh,
I handed him the plates. And then the silverware. And the napkins. And
the baby’s bowl of gross, healthy mush. And our grown-up platters of
unhealthy carbs and animal lard.
And just like that, my child set the table. I was so happy I could have
cried (if I still felt any emotion other than “tired”).
Of course, don’t get the wrong idea. We aren’t “those” parents or
anything. My husband and I make our son pick up his toys every night
before bed (which requires heavy supervision) and we ask him to get the
occasional diaper for his sister (which occasionally results in him
actually getting us a diaper for his sister). We are firmly in the
“kids should clean and do chores” camp. That whole “but children should
just enjoy childhood” ideology is a completely foreign concept to us. I
enjoyed my childhood, despite being forced to vacuum the world’s
ugliest carpet with the world’s most ancient and heavy vacuum cleaner.
And don’t even get my husband started on his childhood job delivering
newspapers, which involves a story where he fell asleep under a tree
during a snowstorm but, by God, everyone got their paper that day. And
yes, it was uphill and 17 miles. Barefoot.
However, the concept of making my toddler do things that are actually
helpful and not just things so he doesn’t grow up to be a horrible
person? That hadn’t occurred to me until that very moment.
Admittedly, it is strange it took me this long to piece it together.
America is a country built pretty much on the concept of two people
having kids JUST SO they would have help on the farm. Or with the
family business. Or to bump up ratings on their reality TV show. In
fact, I bet if you go back throughout all of history, there is evidence
that every civilization exploited their kids for labor.
Viking mom: Ragnar! Come help me put this decapitated head on a pike!
Roman Empire mom: Remus! Come help clean up all this Caesar blood
before it stains!
1920’s flapper mom: Ricky! It’s your turn to stir the bathtub gin!
But although this is new territory to me, I’m quickly getting the hang
of it. Now when he spills something, I make HIM clean it up (and then
clean it up after he cleans it up because he’s three and awful, just
terrible, at it). When I dust, he gets a dust rag too now (as does his
baby sister because fair is fair and she likes chewing on it). And just
yesterday, he helped me fold (throw) laundry into a giant pile and
sweep (hit his father with a Swiffer) the house.
It’s enough to make you wonder if we should maybe have more kids.
HAHAHAHAHA!
Just kidding. I’d sell a kid before deciding to make another one. But
this has opened our eyes to a whole new world of opportunities.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to buy a power washer and some duct
tape to attach my toddler’s hands to it because our porch is looking
pretty dingy.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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