There Better Be Blood

I’m super tired, and in a super crappy mood. I haven’t blogged for the last few days because I feel like it would be one giant complaint. Want to know what’s bothering me? Here’s a short list:

1. Freaking leaf blowers. Dumbest invention ever. Seriously. A contraption that BLOWS LEAVES FROM ONE PLACE TO ANOTHER. Stupid. Besides blowing leaves from my yard into the street, they are the loudest freaking thing ever. And the gardeners always come right in the middle of Rose’s naps. And wake her up. I’ve officially renamed them the baby-wakers. They are so sucky. Oh, and my dog hates them too.

2. Sirens. Okay, I really do feel bad about this one. But seriously? They wake Rose up more than those damn leaf blowers. I am so over it. So, people, here’s what I have to say; there better be blood. If I find out it is some punk kid making phone calls, I will track that child down. I don’t know what I will do when I find him (cuz it would be a boy), but yeah… And, I officially don’t really care if someone is going a few miles about the speed limit in front of my house. Wait until they’ve passed. Then turn on your sirens.

That should help eliminate any drama.

Yep. My ‘drama’ is all over Facebook. It’s not even real drama.

You know what you guys? I’m going to stop complaining (for now). I feel like a bad person now. Sorry.

Ten Things About My Weekend

* Edit: Just like last Monday, I forgot to give the post a title. Why is this becoming a pattern?

I feel like it should still be the weekend. I guess for some people; the lucky ones that Martin Luther King Day off, it is, but not for us. Since I’m still in weekend mode, here are ten things about my weekend.

1. I ate beans and rice for at least three meals this weekend. So did Rose.

2. Rose’s diapers were pretty ripe, due to #1.

3. Speaking of my dear daughter, she has decided that she will be taking one nap a day instead of two. Darn.

4. I took two, very, very long naps.

5. I only wish I had taken two very, very long runs as well. I did not.

6. I went to Target twice.

7. I went to Costco once.

8. We didn’t do any ‘normal’ grocery shopping. Meals this week will be fun.

9. I stayed up until 11:30 watching SNL. I’m so glad I didn’t stay up later. It was not good.

10. I read 25% of Gone Girl. I think I just reached the part where it gets really interesting. Or else I’m just missing something, since everyone says that they couldn’t put it down.

Epic

I wish I did this over the weekend. I didn’t. And I don’t have the guts to. Random…

On Chores and Housework

Growing up in my family, children were expected to do their chores. Rinse dishes and put them into the dishwasher. Make a bed. Put away toys. As we got older, we were responsible for cleaning bathrooms, or whole spaces of the house. Sometimes we were paid, sometimes not. Sometimes we actually did them, sometimes not (I’m not sure if that was related to being paid). While we were expected to do chores, it wasn’t a major point of stress for us. I think because my Mom was pretty laid back about it; if we got them done, great, if not, well, the bathroom might stay dirty if she didn’t have time to clean it (and, once we were teenagers, we really did want a clean bathroom). There was no staying home to do chores. No missing out on birthday parties or spontaneous play dates (the only kind we had in the ‘old days’). I had friends that did have mothers that enforced chores this way. I felt sorry for them. I really think that my mom valued time spent outside or in creative play or wrapped up in a good book over a perfectly clean house. I have to say, I agree. I mean, there is something to be said for a clean house. Obviously. And our house was never filthy. Because we did clean. Because we fit it into our schedules. We weren’t forced to spot clean every inch of the house. Often my mom would make up games for us, to encourage the cleaning. She had a laid-back, kid friendly approach to cleaning. She didn’t do it all for us.

I didn’t always appreciate that we had to clean up our own messes (obviously, very few people enjoy cleaning). One time, I told my mom that the only reason she had four kids was so that we could do all the housework for her. THAT WAS THE STUPIDEST STATEMENT I HAVE EVER MADE. Yes, my mom had kids to clean up all her stuffed animals, American Girl doll stuff, and books that SHE had thrown all over the house. She had kids to clean up after HER rousing games of “Mess the Room.” Pause. I must explain “Mess the Room.” Mess the Room is a game that we would play where we would go into the family room,  chanting “mess the room, mess the room, mess the rooooommmmmm,” while throwing every single Barbie, stuffed animal, lego, Playmobile piece, block, doll, and any other object that had the misfortune of being in the room at the time. The worst part? We usually did this right after she had painstakingly cleaned the entire family room, taking an entire evening that she could have spent watching 90210 or Friends. I have some serious guilt about this game, which has only gotten worse since I’ve become a mom. I honestly don’t remember my mom yelling at us after playing “Mess the Room.” I don’t remember tears or anger. I think my mother might be a saint. If my children EVER do something like this, you can bet there will be a whole lot of tears, followed by an afternoon of time-outs, while I eat every piece of chocolate in the house, while crying on the phone to my mom. The point? NO PARENT HAS CHILDREN TO DO CHORES FOR THEM. It is much cheaper and easier to hire someone, and without said children, the house would not be a mess.

In closing, I would like to say Rose (and any other children I may have) will be expected to clean. But, just like I was as a child, they will be allowed to play, and play will always come first. Unless it is “Mess the Room,” in which case, they will be sentenced to a lifetime of cleaning the grime out of the bathroom tiles for ever even thinking of that damn game. But, seriously, children really have so little time to be children. To be creative and play, and read kids’ books, and not be afraid of getting dirty. They will have the rest of their lives to clean and do dishes and fold laundry. Let them be little. Let them be children. But still; teach them to clean.