Summer’s coming and I am glad.


While I love the change in routine that summer brings, there are some very key ways that I would like this coming summer to NOT resemble last summer. I’m a big fan of free time for kids. You know, time to decompress, daydream, and grow. That sounds pretty good in theory but in reality, last summer, this was me:


And this was them:


And like a frog in a pot of hot water, I didn’t even realize it was happening.

Somehow it has come to pass that I am, in many ways, exactly the kind of mom I always swore I would never be.

It turns out that, despite all my big talk, I do way too many things that my kids could do for themselves. Recently I handed my 14 year old a can opener to use, and he looked at it like this:


That was my ah-hah moment.

I’ll admit, I can get a little smug about homeschooling. I’ll tell anyone who will listen how kids can use the extra time to practice life skills and learn the kind of things that they will actually use in the real world, meanwhile my own fully capable and smart enough teenager is mystified by how to get to the refried beans.

(Note to my son, on the off off chance that he may one day read this: Dude, this is on me. Why, if you have someone removing from under your bed the cereal bowls that have grown fur, would you ever need to do it yourself? And, in fairness, it’s a lame can opener. But still.)

So I did a little research with the goal being to find someone better at all this than me, and just, you know, do what they do.

Here’s a chart I got from a blog called Modest Mom. Her world view and politics are pretty polar opposite to my own, but you know what? She’s got six– count ’em six kids and they all do shit!

According to her chart, my boys have been skating by like eight year olds when it comes to their domestic duties. So while I may not want to party with this gal, I say don’t be modest, sister, because– except for the part where you give a pass to those freeloading one year olds— you are killing it in the child labor department!


My kids don’t have to do daily Bible study and they don’t do half this stuff.

For. Shame.

But today is the first day of the rest of my life, and as Modest Mom is my witness, here’s what my two little stinkers will have to be able to do before September, or else. (Do not ask me or else what. I don’t know what. Something tells me MM would have a few ideas.)

Make their own lunches. I can’t believe I’m outing myself here, but I’ll admit this has been a control thing for me. I want them to eat something healthy for lunch. When left to their own devices they will always (always) eat cereal which, I can hear you saying it, isn’t so bad, and I agree– it’s not. Still, I’m a little weird about the balanced meal thing. (Humble brag– learned it on Facebook.)

But here’s the thing– they don’t eat what I pack anyway. That’s why I am finally doing what I should have done years ago: giving up. I have a feeling Giving Up is the secret sauce to sane parenting, at least as it applies to cleanliness and feeding. So, I will clear my house of all crap “food”  that only sets them up to be judged by me, and they can have whatever is left, with no comment from me.

Late to the party, I know.

Wash their own dishes, like, ALL THE TIME. The days are gone where I will make chores a party. I know what Family Circle or whatever the fuck parenting-advising-confidence-crushing-Pinterest-posting-mommy-blogger says, but my kids are twelve and fourteen and I am done with trying to put lipstick on the pig of housework.

My dear husband is a great one for putting on loud classic rock during dinner clean up, and that’s fine. He likes it and that’s good enough for me, but I actually do not see this translating into my sons wiping down the stove with any more gusto than if AC/DC wasn’t blasting from the radio.

My plan includes a rotating schedule for dinner dishes where each of us does the whole shebang a few times a week, and then a clean-as-you-go kind of thing for the rest of the day. Loud music, timers, games and cheeriness optional.

Cook something that isn’t a quesadilla. I have friends who’s kids love to cook. Those people are not going to understand this. My boys have inherited their dad’s complete and total aversion to all things culinary. When they were little, we baked bread. We did– I have the pictures to prove it. Judging from the endless images of them in their little aprons, we had it all figured out, didn’t we?


To all the young moms out there who’s kids love gardening and grocery shopping and your favorite bands, I say enjoy it now because one day all those things you thought you knew about your little darlings will come crashing down around you and you will be face to face with someone who is probably totally awesome but who is maybe not awesome in the exact way you *planned* for them to be awesome, and this can be quite a blow.

Just saying.

My kids can’t cook and I, with the help of Blue Apron 2x a week, plan to change that. I’m hoping that all that practice assembling Lego sets will come in handy when I hand them the box. What could possibly go wrong??

Do hard work that is not pretend hard work. Guilty. I have given my kids faux chores for years to make myself feel better. I could sleep at night knowing that my kids were not some special snowflakes– no! My kids fed the dog, for god’s sake. They unloaded the dishwasher and made sure the toilet was flushed before company came over (keeping’ it classy). I was raising young men who would know the value of hard work; why just look at them sweep the front porch, would you???

You guys, those are the same jobs they’ve had since they were in booster seats, and while I give them props for never giving me grief about doing them, I think that might be because they just don’t want to call attention to the sweet gig that they’ve had for the past several years. The last time I sent my son out to weed the front yard, he lasted twenty minutes and then needed to convaless for the better part of the afternoon.

No more, my darling.

Time to get real. Our fridge needs cleaning, the garbage bins need scrubbing and the patio furniture needs scouring.

From here on out, I will perform the duties of my new job as my sons’ Uber, with a smile. This will, however, require that I resign, effective immediately, from any job that includes me sweating under my boobs while scraping melted fruit rollups off the backseat of our Honda.

Seems like a fair trade.

In closing, this summer will not be last summer. This summer we will disperse the load. This summer I will give up a little control and my boys will give up a little free time, and all of us will struggle with that, I’m sure. But I’m optimistic.

I’ll let you know how it goes.




7 thoughts on “It’s a Dirty Job and Somebody’s Got To Do It

  1. PM me through Facebook. I have some free meals that I can send to friends from Blue Apron. It really is a life-saver. These recipes are easy enough for me to follow (and I am a limited cook, at best). Caveat – maybe don’t “add salt and pepper” quite as often as it says in the recipe. Also – keep pan temps a bit lower than suggested so that carmelized glaze looks a bit less like charcoal. . .#stilllearning


  2. I’m so proud of your late to the party resolution!
    I would like to encourage you to research other dinner prep companies – I have found some that are much less complicated than Blue Apron – don’t want them to get discouraged their first times out!!! Congrats! Don’t expect cooperation but it’s a valiant goal- seriously dump blue apron – too many steps for the novice cook – I also recommend giving them a grocery list and a debit card or cash and making them do the grocery shopping once a week. My dear sweet Moma used
    To drop us kids off at the store and come back 45 minutes later and pick us up. Carry on valiant Mom!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for the support and advice. Care to share your fave meal prep service? I’ll do anything you tell me to do. Almost. At least, as it applies to child rearing. And probably also fashion 🙂


  3. This is going to be good. For everyone. But it will still be hard on you. But like all the things, good in the long run. And your future daughter(or son)-in-laws will be forever grateful to you. Like, CRAZY grateful. “Long walk part of gift”.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I fired the maid when my kids were little, so that they could learn responsibility, self-determination, blah,blah,blah… And once you’ve rung that bell…

    I got on the “I am not our maid” thing pretty early in the game after that supremely stupid move. Listen – it’s not easy. ‘Many hands make light work’ for the first several years looked a lot like “Honey, next time don’t use your toothbrush on the toilet seat. Here’s a new one.” and “You shoved it all under the couch again didn’t you.” and finally “DO YOUR FRICKING CHORES LOOSER!!’. But I’m committed to believing that my kids are better equipped to be adults one day who, even if they choose not to clean up, at least know how. And now that I’m running a business while homeschooling the one and parenting the other – it’s a lifesaver.

    Here’s my new thing: You know those every-six-months cleaning duties? Like scrubbing down the kitchen cabinets and then taking a Magic Eraser to them, or cleaning off the top of the washer & dryer, or organizing the Costco Pantry (what the hell happens in there!?). I now put these in a Google Doc, along with the amount of cash I’m willing to fork out to get the job done, and my kids hit it when they’re running low. Sometimes this works well, and sometimes it’s clear to me that my kids have way more discretionary income than I do.

    Godspeed my friend. Remember: 1. It’ll get worse before it get’s better. 2. They don’t have to like it, they just have to do it. Grumpily done housework is still getting done, and it’s okay to be grumpy about it, provided Mom is in the other room reading a book and doesn’t have to hear it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Wonderful words of wisdom. I love the google doc idea. I had a similar plan in mind and I’m glad to know it’s been used successfully by a pro. Only thing is, now I feel I need a Costco pantry.


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