Saturday, September 13, 2008

Call the concierge...

Last night as I asked the boys to pick up the toys that they had so kindly left out, I received a series of moans and groans.  I rolled my eyes and told them that this was not a vacation.  To which Skater informed me, "But this is our vacation house! This is the only place we can come to get a break."  Well, if this is their vacation house, I guess I must be their concierge, chef, maid, and chauffeur.  What I would really like to know is, where is my vacation house? I want a house where I can go, sit, relax, watch TV, play video games, ride my bike, and have someone cook for me, clean up after me, and buy me stuff.  That does sound like a good deal, but then who would do it for my family if I weren't here.  As I turned off the TV and left the room that I had just helped the boys clean up, I kept repeating Skater's words in my mind, "This is the only place we can come to get a break..."  And I wondered, "Where do I get to go to get a break?"  If I suddenly showed up at my mom's house, I do not think that she would wait on me hand and foot, and then allow me to complain if I didn't like what she made me for dinner.  She wouldn't let me roll my eyes at her, or stomp and pout all the way downstairs if she asked me to pick up the crap that I left out.  She wouldn't buy me new toys and then let me leave them out for a baby to play with and break.  She wouldn't let me spend all day in front of the TV watching episode after episode of Ben 10 and Naruto (not that I would want to).  What have I done to create an atmosphere in my home where after 3 years of the same ridiculous arguments, the boys still think that this is their hotel?  Where did I go wrong?  

When we first moved into our house, D and I decided that we would have consistent rules for all of our children whether the boys were here or not.  We did not want to have one set of rules for Fuss and any possible future siblings and another set for the older boys.  We also didn't want Fuss to think that he could get away with whatever he wanted just because his brothers were here.  I am not one who makes the boys slave away washing walls whenever they are here.  I only did that once, and it was because Olie volunteered to wash the walls because he thought it was fun to use the "Magic Eraser" on them.  I don't make them do dishes, laundry, vacuum, or dust.  I have only asked them to clean their own bathroom not mine and D's, and that is only because I had it cleaned before they arrived, and they were the ones that let the tornado in to destroy it.  I ask them to keep their own rooms clean, and I don't even uphold my standard of what clean is in their rooms because they are downstairs and no one ever sees them.  I ask them to pick up the family room, because it is their messes that need to be cleaned.  And really I don't ever ask them to clean, I ask them to straighten.  Yet, they need a break?

At this point, I can see their point.  Just thinking about trying to get them to help out is making me exhausted.  I think I am going to take a hot shower or a bath.  If only there was someone that could get that started for me, and bring me some fresh towels.  I would really like it if there was a mint on my pillow when I went to bed tonight also...too bad I don't have a vacation home.

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