So today, I took my son to Best Buy because his computer and his good tracking sports watch died. Coupled with the new shoes he needed for track, I needed to check the calendar.
The Bank of Mom is taking it on the chin these days, but I've also decided to take a page from the banks. I'm now charging interest.
"Hey Mom, can we go to Target?"
"Well, we could, but I've got all this work to do. If only it didn't take so long. It's too bad it's just me..."
The older kids recognize this is a blatant passive aggressive attempt to get them to clean, but they also are the ones who understand, cleaning works as a Mom bribe.
The younger ones, having recently discovered that Mom can be bribed, have yet to comprehend that Mom is so pleased when she gets assistance, they don't have to try as hard as they do...not that I'm going to stop them.
"Hey Mom, if we sweep the floor and mop and clean the bathrooms, can we get McDonalds?"
"Yes. Yes we can."
The older kids howl, they don't want McDonald's, that's cheapy junk food. I point out, those that clean get to call the shots. Now the internal struggle is more fierce. "What exactly is possible? Five Guy's? Noodles and Company? Ledo's?" However, I know better. I know the bird in hand is the willing worker, the negotiations with these folks often leads to better fare but a less fair arrangment for me, and the house looks less fair as well. All's fair in love and war, and in parenting which is a mixture of the two. Being an evil bank in this situation, I double down.
Those who clean get exclusive rights to the dinner out. No one not working will get the benefit of my generosity. There's a panicked look on the teens faces as they scavange for opportunities that will yeild them the fries from the golden arches they just mocked. "Hey Mom, I'll take down the Christmas tree ornaments." "Hey Mom, I unloaded the dishwasher." "Hey Mom, I cleared out the shoes from the front and hung up the coats." I listen, nodding. It's good to be the queen. I'd planned to let them eat it regardless, but now the deal in everyone's mind is set, so all shirkers are ferreted out by their siblings who are working. "If you don't work, you don't get..." or some version of Saint Paul's warning goes out, and tasks I never thought to propose get done. My fridge gets cleaned and the closet organized, and the turtle tank.
Bonus, no dishes after dinner. I'm thinking, if cleaning the main floor gets the ordinary junk food, the higher end stuff ought to merit deeper cleaning. I google local chefs that are celebrities for their cuisine and mention the price tag. To a person, they state their preference for the red and gold.
I'm no expert but I think I've been chopped.
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