Chores

My wonderful mom and me.

I used to have chores. My mother split up the downstairs and upstairs between me and my brother. I was in charge of the downstairs. I was thankful that I didn't have to clean the bathroom that I shared with Shaun, because, well, boys are gross. This was something that my mother undoubtedly did on purpose. She knows how gross boys are, she was married to one for 26 years and gave birth to one as well. Us girls got to stick together.

Well, there is another thing that I look back on and realize that my mother did on purpose, and not for the same reason.

She had me vacuum the stairs. This was not a big deal, and I usually tried doing it without complaining. Okay that's a lie. I wasn't allowed to go out with friends until my chores were done, and on Saturday that was torture. I am sure that I complained a lot. Sorry mom.

Anyways, this afternoon something dawned on me. My mother gave me this task for one reason and one reason only:

VACUUMING THE STAIRS STINKS.

It's as simple as that. No one wants to vacuum the stairs. They are the small reject pieces of carpet that get trampled day in and day out. They have little crevices that are hard to reach, they never look totally clean no matter what you do, you have to be a friggin acrobat just to hold the vacuum while balancing on a step, bending over and cleaning one stupid step at a time. It is lame.

Unfortunately my child is still in utero, therefore I cannot make him do this task. I cannot follow in the footsteps of my mother and pretend like having chores is a way to build character (which by the way mom, is a load of crap). I know the truth, you can stop pretending. 

Don't worry, I still love you and I hold nothing against you.

I also don't want you thinking that I have learned nothing. I have gained much knowledge from the chores I had to do when I was living at home. It did build character, it taught me how to keep a house clean. It taught me discipline, and it taught me that if I want the stairs vacuumed, I need to tell Jeff that my back is killing me from carrying his 2nd child (and being pregnant for 2 years straight now) and I need to push this responsibility off on him.

Thanks mom. I would call you and thank you over the phone, but you wouldn't be able to hear me over the sound of Jeff hard at work.

Thanks for the years spent teaching me how to be a good wife. I certainly learned a lot.

"Babe, you missed a spot....and could you bring me the cookies when you are done? Thanks!"