Rabbit

FYI, as a follow-up to my previous post on chores and allowance, it would appear that the best way to get kids interested in that allowance (and the cleaning required for its acquisition) is to find their sweet spot.

Henry has a sudden and fierce drive to acquire all things Bakugon. He’s therefore begging to do everyone’s chores (and be paid accordingly). Jack wants a Pez dispenser the size of Darius, that 50-pound bunny everyone’s talking about.

And Grace wants Darius.

I want to be encouraged by their onset of newfound motivation, but sadly, the end of each scenario ends up with me holding a humongous Pez dispenser in one hand and an equally humongous rabbit in the other. Which doesn’t feel like a win-win. Just sayin’.

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bucket full of cleaning supplies

Chores and allowance. On their own, each topic gets me tapping my foot at record speed. Address them simultaneously and I tap and begin frothing at the mouth.

Which is why we just did away with both. For a time.

Not a long time.

Because there are 7 of us here (plus two dogs) and it doesn’t stay clean long.

And the gunk that somehow ends up in unfathomable places was not created by moi. I mean, maybe the very small blob of blue toothpaste in my sink was, but I can assure you that neither the tube of toothpaste that was seemingly squeezed a la caulk into the grout in the kids’ bathroom nor the glob of god-knows-what that I found when I turned out front porch cushion right-side-up today (because, quite obviously, to a child turning the cushion over is FAR less time consuming than cleaning it).

Chores are hard in a home with 5 kids. One kid gets assigned the living room, but then claims that nothing strewn across the living room was deposited by him. One is assigned his own room, and then claims that a ghost mysteriously put all of his clothes underneath his bed instead of hanging them on hangers.

I find it equally hard to leave the house in this state of disarray to go to the store wherein the kids are simultaneously begging me to buy them things all. the. time. Things like packs of gum and baseball cards. Things that (in my opinion) they should be saving and budgeting their own money to buy.

So a few weeks ago I again attempted a chore chart and corresponding currency rewards to go with it. And while I may be tempting fate by doing so, I’m going to predict that brilliance has finally fallen upon me. Because at 11:14 this past Sunday, Henry was vacuuming the steps, Jack was steam cleaning the tile, Grace was folding laundry, and Nina (who’s 1) was proactively lining up her shoes. George was shooting spit balls from a straw at all aforementioned chore-doers, but hey, three out of four ain’t bad.

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What is your best chore completion strategy?

trash can overflowing with paper

Have you ever seen the Friends episode wherein Ross is dating a character played by Rebecca Romijn who has the most unbelievably messy apartment you think you’ve ever seen?

Yesterday afternoon I embarked on a cleaning mission of Jack’s and Henry’s room after Grace’s Nintendo DS “mysteriously” disappeared somewhere. And by “somewhere,” I mean most likely underneath the landfill otherwise known as Jack’s and Henry’s Cabin.

A cabin it is. Compares quite nicely, I’m sure, to those cabins deep in the woods where complete lunatics hang out with no electricity, no plumbing, and no sewage waste disposal system.

There are many experts who would suggest that I ensure that my kids care for the state of their own rooms. There are other experts who would suggest that the state of a child’s room should not be an area in which we choose to do battle. There are even more experts who might claim that I shouldn’t be the one up there wearing rubber gloves and pulling year-old juice boxes out from under the dresser.

I care not.

Because when I unearthed snack bar wrapper number 47 from behind Henry’s bed, I made myself the expert and said, “Um, no.”

To a lot of things.

Like eating anywhere but the kitchen table (which has been a rule since forever but apparently it ain’t bein’ followed). And purchasing juice boxes. And giving kids their own rooms.

It’s no wonder George can’t find any clothes to wear; most of them are stuffed in a drawer under Henry’s bed.

They have a bookshelf. With 7 shelves. That’s bolted to the wall. Yes, they’re almost 8. But they’re almost-8-year-old boys, so it’s bolted to the wall. They have drawers and bins and they’re cute and labeled and everything. One is even labeled “junk.”

How much extra time does it take to shove trash under or behind a bed or to LIFT UP A DRESSER AND STASH AN EMPTY JUICE BOX UNDER IT than to shove it into a trash can?

I can’t answer that because I’m not 8.

Four garbage bags and two asthma attacks later, I exited. I don’t even have asthma. At least I didn’t. I might now.

***

What is your strategy for peacefully keeping your kids’ rooms sanitary?

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