Like the military, in this house there is a don't ask, don't tell policy.
It is not in my job description to:
set the table
clear the table
stack or empty the dishwasher.
Those jobs have been reassigned to give Mom a hand. And in principle, that might work.
The other night, after clearing the gutters, magically whipping up a dinner, whisking the little ones off to play practice and attending the older one's winter concert, I returned home to stacked dirty dishes on the counters and sink. My heart sunk. Nine o'clock at night and the kitchen was still a mess.
Whose job is it? Well the little ones have been tasked with dish detail. And I knew they had been in the kitchen since being returned from their play practice at 7. There were popcorn dishes stacked on top of the dinner plates.
The ultimate reason for the back up -- the dishwasher was loaded with clean dishes. "I can't put them in the dishwasher!" is the usual lament. Again, not my job -- but we were running out of silverware so I ran a load, set the table for dinner while cooking, while everyone else was relaxing from their tough days at school or on a ladder. And now hours later, this.
I walked away. As disgusting as that sounds, and in real life it is, I left it all. I've left it all in the past. I've left it all until we've run out of dishes, or space for me to cook. Putting a box of cereal on the table and the few mismatched bowls and no spoons for dinner. "Sorry," I start my excuse. "There are no clean dishes." Or, "There was no space for me to cook." And it's by some miracle those words open their eyes to the mess that has consumed the kitchen. Panic and raised voices ensue. Honestly, I don't know what is worse the mess or the panic.
But what usually happens is, in the morning, after the man goes to work and before the children rise from their beds, I clean the kitchen. I unload the dishwasher. In reality it takes no time at all. Reload the dishwasher, wash the counter tops, and start the pans soaking. After all cleaning up pans after a night with food stuck on them is no picnic.
So as the sun rises, we have, what I've come to call, "The Miracle of Mom." No one asks. No one tells.
3 comments:
Don't give in! When they leave the house carefully place all the dirty dishes on their beds then confine them to their rooms. They can only come out to clean dishes.
I'd make a mean mom.
I am pretty good about emptying the dishwasher. If I focus, putting the dishes away doesn't take very long. Plus it keeps the sink from getting jammed up.
Luckily, Iggy also chips in.
Good luck getting your girls to cooperate more!
Hey--I'm catching up on my reading. Another "guest editor" column for MWDN--I'm serious. Send it out...or look at a parenting mag...ones that have back-age essays OR ones that have tips on how to get kids to help...I think your strategy is brilliant (and funny to booth)--a good combo.
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