So, the equity of this project ensures that I’ve come to loathe the tyranny of my own chore chart even more than my kids. My hypocrisy awareness is at a painful level right now. Which brings me to enforcement of the chore chart as it relates to all family members.
Join me now in my kitchen this morning as I discussed the infamous chore chart with my eldest son. For your benefit, I’ll turn off the sound. See my mouth moving fast and furiously, see my finger stabbing violently at the fridge upon which the chart is pinned. See how it is Saturday and nothing has been filled in on the chart since Wednesday even though he has been reminded every day. It’s so much funnier with the sound off.
I am tempted to turn on the sound for you to hear my son’s heartfelt, lame reasons why each item should not have to ever be done, and why charts are lame and for little kids, etc., because then you could see what a victim I am in this.
Ah, the kid’s chore chart is a chore for mom as much as her own is.
It’s my fault. Who can expect an 8-year-old boy who can’t even finish something he wants to do without distraction–to do this without help? I just came up with my answer. This Sunday, I’ll add one more chore to each section of my own chart. Before breakfast, before dinner, and after dinner, I’ll have to check off: “Remind kids to do the chores.” Ugh, now that’s a chore.
Then, the roll-out of this well-laid, glorious plan of order simply hinges on one person (me) doing one thing: looking AT the fridge three times a day rather than just looking IN it (far more than that I’m ashamed to say).
Hm. So, I guess now that it is almost 11 a.m., this would be the time where I get out of my bathrobe and go look at the fridge