What price slavery?
Is it just me or does everyone hate housework? Almost as much as you hate a dirty house?
And during school holidays there seems to be so much more to do! Bloody kids! Whose idea where they again????
My 15 year old son and I have a running battle over housework, I keep telling him I refuse to raise a useless adult he keeps ignoring me, happy to sit at the computer for hours, surrounded by washing he can't be bothered putting away.
For the record, I don't usually give in...it's a dance he and I have been doing for quite some time.
I remember once, when Gabe was about five, Milli was two and I was pregnant with Jemima.
I was constantly tired and grumpy and both kids were at that shocking age of all mess and no responsibility.
After a morning of cleaning up I went in to find Gabe's bath towel on his bedroom floor (ten years later...I'm pretty sure that's where you'll find it this morning too...but I digress)
"AAAHHHH" I yelled, "Sweetheart, you have got to learn to pick up your own towel. I am not your slave!"
"What's a slave?"
"It's someone who has to work and doesn't get paid for it. And it's not fair!" I whined.
The morning continued, I continued to be grumpy. With good reason.
If I wasn't picking up after them I was referreeing fights and even when I went to have a shower they came banging on the door. Thirsty apparently.
By the time I put Milli down for a sleep I was on the verge of tears. As I came out of the bedroom Gabe was waiting for me. He turned over his sweaty little hand and in a teary voice said "There you are Mummy, now you're not my slave.."
For thirty five cents he had paid me back for every thing I had ever done for him.
Like I said, a decade later he still suffers slothful child syndrome and I am occasionally forced to trot out the 'I am not your slave' lecture. Don't dare tell him, but the truth is, I'm still cheap. For the price of a hug I'll probably pick up his towel some time later today!
And during school holidays there seems to be so much more to do! Bloody kids! Whose idea where they again????
My 15 year old son and I have a running battle over housework, I keep telling him I refuse to raise a useless adult he keeps ignoring me, happy to sit at the computer for hours, surrounded by washing he can't be bothered putting away.
For the record, I don't usually give in...it's a dance he and I have been doing for quite some time.
I remember once, when Gabe was about five, Milli was two and I was pregnant with Jemima.
I was constantly tired and grumpy and both kids were at that shocking age of all mess and no responsibility.
After a morning of cleaning up I went in to find Gabe's bath towel on his bedroom floor (ten years later...I'm pretty sure that's where you'll find it this morning too...but I digress)
"AAAHHHH" I yelled, "Sweetheart, you have got to learn to pick up your own towel. I am not your slave!"
"What's a slave?"
"It's someone who has to work and doesn't get paid for it. And it's not fair!" I whined.
The morning continued, I continued to be grumpy. With good reason.
If I wasn't picking up after them I was referreeing fights and even when I went to have a shower they came banging on the door. Thirsty apparently.
By the time I put Milli down for a sleep I was on the verge of tears. As I came out of the bedroom Gabe was waiting for me. He turned over his sweaty little hand and in a teary voice said "There you are Mummy, now you're not my slave.."
For thirty five cents he had paid me back for every thing I had ever done for him.
Like I said, a decade later he still suffers slothful child syndrome and I am occasionally forced to trot out the 'I am not your slave' lecture. Don't dare tell him, but the truth is, I'm still cheap. For the price of a hug I'll probably pick up his towel some time later today!
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