I was supposed to teach a lesson in young women’s yesterday on sacrifice. I was excited to do it. In fact, being able to teach felt like a real treat, because there was a high likelihood that I would be kid free while I did it. Selfish, I know. I didn’t teach, and that is probably for the best. Instead I went home because Jameson messed his outfit, and Josie turned into a ravenous beast that would not be satisfied until the nap she craved was delivered. It’s better that I didn’t teach, because the probability of me getting on some crazy tangent about how much mom’s have to sacrifice was pretty much 100%. The girls were spared the soapiest of soap boxes. Girls, you can thank leaky diapers for that. You’re welcome.
So, instead, I climbed right to the top of my high horse and delivered my message (loud and clear, mind you) to my family tonight for family home evening. I’m not sure how they felt about it all, but I feel much better!
In a flash of inspiration while vacuuming I came up with what seemed to be a brilliant idea to solve part of my problem. Taking care of four little kids is a load—of all kinds of stuff. It is a load of blessings, but it’s also a load of so much more, and it is heavy, heavy work sometimes. I mentioned before how selfish I am, and I am. One of my guiltiest selfish acts is needing to have the house in order around me. I can’t handle the clutter. This is selfish, because the rest of my family doesn’t seem to mind sitting in a mess, yet I insist that it be straight and picked up at the very least. Well, what I’ve found with our new addition is that has become increasingly difficult for me, alone, to keep up on this, and it is making me loony tunes! I pick up—Jo tears apart. I pick up—the boys come home from school. There is no need for further explanation, because any mom with school age kids knows full well what that entails. I pick up—Josh comes home. etc. etc. etc.
Now to my brilliant plan for fhe.
After reading D&C 42:42, which basically says if you don’t do the work, don’t expect to have what those who do have, and reading “The Little Red Hen”, I proceeding to fill a backpack with rocks that were labeled with all of the responsibilities that come with taking care of a family. I left out all of the things that go with running a household. I only included things like, picking up after them, feeding them, cleaning their clothes…the list goes on, but you get the idea. I ended up with 70 + rocks, and then I had each of the boys wear it, and told them to imagine wearing it all the time and never getting to take it off. Ever. They thought that would be hard. Then we went outside and I had them try walking a ways with it on, but while they were walking I got in their face and started screaming for them to “run! go faster! I want a pop tart now! I need my bum wiped! I need! I need! I need!” because you see, as a mom, it’s not enough that there are lots of things to do, EVERYTHING is urgent.
I think they got the picture. Then we took the rocks out that they thought they could help out with, and put them in their backpacks to help share the load. Their backpacks were still not too heavy, and mine was lighter.
Great lesson, right? Now the application, and this is the part I’m most excited about.
My kids love to earn and save money. They are always asking for jobs to do for cash. So, I thought that it was fair to reverse the tables. I pay them when they work for me, now they can pay me when I work for them.
My boy’s only responsibilities are to go to school and do their best, and to clean up after themselves. No heavy lifting. They aren’t scrubbing toilets or wiping down walls, just putting away shoes and picking up dirty clothes.
At the end of the day I’ll do a final walk through of the premises, and should they forget to put their shoes away or hang up their backpacks, I’ll go ahead and take those things. They become mine. The only way they get them back is to pay me for them. So, I imagine it will go something like this,
Them: “Mom, where are my shoes? I can’t find them”
Me: “Oh sweetie, you left them in the middle of the room last night. I picked them up, and if you want to wear them, you’ll have to give me $.20”
If I come upon a mess that they didn’t clean up, like say, play-doh (because there isn’t really a worse mess than play doh) I write up a bill for my services that they will then need to pay.
I figure this is so brilliant for my kids, because they love to save their money. They hate to see it go, so paying me will kill them, but on the off chance that they may have a bad day and leave their jacket on the floor, they will want to provide themselves a buffer and will probably jump at the opportunity to vacuum the stairs when a quarter is promised upon completion.
Well, we’ll see how it goes. I’ll either have a very straight house, with much less effort on my part, or I will be a rich woman. Either way, pretty great.
