If You Don't Know Who It Is - It's Probably You

There are some things that are universally annoying: popping your gum, being a Debbie Downer, being overly happy, etc. These things are annoying to everyone on the planet except those who do them. I cannot explain why this is, but it is so. There are some things that are only going to annoy a small part of the population. I, for one, can't stand it if you don't say goodbye before you hang up the phone.

You know what, jerk? You just hung up on me. In the interest of what? Pretending you're on TV? Saving a half a second? Seriously, getting off the phone without saying goodbye is hanging up on me and I will NOT tolerate it. Also, don't say the word literally unless you literally know what it means and are certain that what you say is literally true. I will NOT tolerate someone saying "It's literally a million degrees in here." Because it's not. I guarantee it. Because you have the ability to speak rather than being a puddle of melted humanity.

But that's not what we're talking about today. We are talking about something much more heinous and hidden. Something that your friends will never point out to you, but I guarantee you that they are annoyed by it. What is this awful thing you could be doing, you ask? Counting your blessings.

Don't get me wrong - everyone should do this to some extent. You should know that your life is better than it could be. You should rejoice in the little victories and celebrate the small joys in life. It's important. And you shouldn't dwell on the bad, as that is a recipe for disaster.

On the other hand, you shouldn't do it constantly. If you find yourself saying things like, "I feel so blessed to be born with all my limbs," more than once a decade, you may have a problem. If when people tell you their problems, you respond with something along the lines of, "But you are so blessed that all of your problems are so small," you definitely have issues.

Trust me, you are annoying everyone.

Oh, they won't tell you that it's annoying, because you are making them feel bad. But everyone gets to complain. Everyone. At least once in a while without hearing about how they shouldn't because they have it better than someone else. People should be entitled to feel pain, to whine, to bitch, even and be accepted as normal - not some ungrateful freak who should be jumping up and down that they don't have seven different forms of cancer like that guy in an email you got last week.

Seriously, seek help. For yourself if not for those around you. Eventually, you'll be murdered.

Five Things on Friday - Family Movie Night Edition

Every once in while, we pop popcorn, make Kool-Ade, and all four of us climb into my bed and watch a movie. I call it Family Movie Night. Brynna calls it playing theatre. I don't get to wear my pajamas to the theatre or put the movie on pause to use the bathroom, so I think this is even better.

Except for one thing: the actual movies. Before I had kids, I loved kids' movies. All of them, even the cheesy ones. Now that I watch approximately 700 hours of children's programming a day, I could do without them. I mean, have you seen that Curious George movie? Seriously. I have a headache just thinking about it.

Therefore, I try to talk my kids into what I call Kid-Friendly-Adult-Movies. We've watched Pirates of the Caribbean about 17 times. I tried Ghostbusters but that wasn't as kid friendly as I remembered. Sometimes I wonder about the adults in my life.

I've been thinking a lot about this lately, though. Mostly, I've been thinking about the movies I loved when I was that age. We've got a stay-cation coming up and I'd like to do at least one game night and one movie night over our week of being trapped with one another. Here are

Five Movies I Think We Can All Agree On:

Plus: The HAIR!!!!

1. Labyrinth - For those who lived under a rock in the '80's, Labyrinth is the story of a young girl (Jennifer Connelly) who is left home alone to babysit. While "storytelling" she accidentally conjures a real Goblin King (David Bowie FTW) to come and kidnap her baby brother. The rest of the movie is the confusing and surreal tale of her struggle through a fantasy world to get to the Goblin Palace and steal back her brother before midnight (when the spell becomes final and her parents get home)! In truth, the story is so secondary to the joy that is Jim Henson and David Bowie collaborating. It is simultaneously, a great movie for kidlets who love fantasy and creatures and flatulence jokes, and an acid trip on film on par with The Wall. Actually, better than the wall because I am still having nightmares about the part where he shaves off his nipples.

And the best part is clearly Falcor.

2. The Never Ending Story - In The Never Ending Story, Bastion is a bookish kid who is constantly getting bullied. He hides in a bookstore where he is introduced to a "dangerous" book. When he borrows the book and takes it to the school attic to read, he is swept away to a fantasy land (sensing a theme yet?) where he must become a hero and save the mythical world from destruction. TNES is a movie made for kids, full of "lessons" and "morals" but also managing to not seem preachy because it's so bizarre. If you've seen Shark Boy and Lava Girl, imagine how great that movie would have been if it weren't so preachy. Also, if there were no George Lopez.

You should be warned,
Tim Curry is freakin' scary.

3. Legend - Despite the fact that Legend boasts a pretty all-star cast (Tom Cruise, Mia Sara and Tim Curry) it is probably the one you are least likely to have seen. Although I don't know how you missed it. It seems like it was on cable every Saturday of my childhood. I would like to explain the plot to you, but it would take almost as long as watching the movie. Basically, a very, very young Tom Cruise has to save his fiance from the Lord of Darkness and partners up with all sorts of magical creatures along the way. The whole movie is a delight to watch, as it is just beautifully done. There's some sort of something about virginity, which I ignored as a kid and I hope my kids can too, but otherwise, it's as fun for kids as adults. Basically, Legend  is like crack for me. I've never turned down an opportunity to watch it and every time I see it I enjoy it as much as the first.

Mmmm....

4. The Princess Bride - I'm not even going to tell you what The Princess Bride is about because if you haven't seen it then you clearly hate all things good in the world. I do not feel that that is at all an exaggeration. In any case, I've been trying to get the girls to watch this for literally years, to no avail. If Brynna would just give it a chance, I know she'd love it. As Grandpa says, "Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles..." How true, Grandpa. May I add, Cary Elwes at his most drool-worthy?


5. Savannah Smiles - SS is the story of the very young daughter of a politician who runs away and is sort of accidentally kidnapped by some not-so-bright crooks. Savannah is so charming, however, that she makes their lives brighter. They are even sort of parenty. It's not the world's best movie, but I was truly captivated by it as a kid. There is something magical about watching the criminals come around. Okay, so you probably won't like it, but I do. And it's my movie night anyway.

So, what about you? What movies to you watch with the kids when you think that one more repeat of the Map Song is going to send you over the edge of a cliff?

Dream a Little Dream

I dream. A lot. I typically remember my dreams, sometimes for years, but always long enough to tell someone if it was funny/weird/scary. I never dream in black and white. Only in color. I usually have either one dream that seems to last forever or a bunch of short, unrelated dreams that share some weird common thread. Like underwear.

In any case, a few weeks (or possibly months) ago, I stopped dreaming. I told Hubby about this and he pooh-poohed my odd observation by telling me that I was probably dreaming and not remembering it. And perhaps I was. It's possible.

But I don't think so.

I've been stressed. Sitting up at night while trying desperately not to balance my checkbook in my head stressed and I think that was somehow keeping me from dreaming.

For the past three nights, I have dreamt. Long, rambly weird dreams (some about underwear). All of them in color. All of them in 3D. All of them bright and vivid and realish. (Except there's too much underwear).

I think I'm cured. I'm going to sleep without complex math and compound interest filling my head and I'm dreaming. I don't know what caused my cure (although I have a theory) but I do believe that my long (lack of)  nightmare is over.

I'm ready for my inception, Mr. DiCaprio.

Just a Few Things

As I was driving home yesterday, I got to thinking about Brynna's homework. She's done with it for the year, it seems. There's a week and a half left, but they are foregoing homework for the rest of the school year and Halle-freakin-lujah, I hate homework. I never hated homework when I was a kid, but I hate keeping on her and making her do it and the TEARS of spelling. I do remember crying over spelling, so maybe there's hope for her.

Anyway, she's signed every single thing she's turned in this second semester "Brynna T.I.P." For the uninitiated, T.I.P. apparently stands for The Ice Princess. I'm not sure where this came from or why she has decided to forever be remembered as The Ice Princess. In fact, months ago, I tried to talk her out of it. "Not everyone thinks that's a nice thing," I mentioned. "Ice, good. Princess, awesome. What's not to like?" was her typically teenagery reply. So, Brynna T.I.P. she has become.

She'll probably have forgotten about it next year or grown into some new phase and I am so terrified I'll forget this - her Ice Princess year. I was driving home thinking about all the things she has done that I thought were so precious (calling me MumMum, making up homework, insisting on "Dance Time" every night) and how very far away they all seem now.

I ought to write this down, I thought.

Like how when Maren gets mad, she puts her hand on her hip and says, "Here's the deal, mommy..." just like I do when I'm fed up with their shenanigans. How she gives me a little kiss every morning and I say, "No, I need a big smacky one," and she tries to give me the loudest possible kiss before I leave her for the day.

Like how Brynna hates to do chores but loves to help, so it's all in the wording. And how she wears pants under her skorts and says, "What? Now I'm warm," when I give her a look. How she's become suddenly obsessed with stories of when I was a little girl, reminding me of how thin my memory is because I can never think of ANYTHING.

Or how Maren's hair gets super-curly when it's wet or humid outside and she looks like Shirley Temple and I was surprised the other night washing her hair to realize just how long it's gotten. And how she wants so badly to help put away the groceries, but she tries to put everything in the freezer. Or how she's so grown up already that sometimes it just kills me to hear her talk.

Like how Brynna makes a big deal about story time every night even though she can read to herself perfectly well now. Or how she can't wait to get through Farmer Boy because there aren't enough girls. Or how she makes up songs that last for forty minutes.

It seems nearly impossible to hold all this in my head forever. And yet it seems impossible that I'll ever be able to forget. Brynna is already going on 14, in attitude if not in years and Maren is potty trained, knows her alphabet and physically capable of just about anything. Brynna is so tall and gangly already and so sure of herself and her place in the world. I am so proud every time I look at them, but also so filled to the brim with melancholy at how very quickly they are growing up. How much things change. How hard it is to listen beyond the screaming sibling fights and see them - my girls - in all their amazing glory.

Look at That - I'm Breathing

It's been a long week. What's that you say? It's Monday. Damn. It's been a long week anyway. Starting last week. Actually, starting the week before that.

Two Thursdays ago, I got sick. Very sick. Worrisome sick. Well, not really, but spent all day Friday and most of Saturday in bed sick. Then, I muddled through a week. I kept waiting to get better, but instead, I would develop one more symptom for every one that went away. At first I thought cold or flu, then I thought allergies, now I'm back to cold. But I just can't shake it.

I spent another weekend mostly in bed and today I wish I was there.

On the bright side, I'm breathing better today than I have since that fateful Thursday. The bad news is that my clogged ear induced deafness has began ringing. I hate a ringing in my ears almost worse than anything. It's also in my work phone ear. Don't pretend that you don't always use the same ear to answer the office phone. You do. I've no patience for that today.

Actually, I feel better than I have in quite a while, but I'm afraid to say that because I may be jinxing myself. Or perhaps I'm just being hypnotized by the ringing...

Five Things on Friday - Style Icon Edition

I was talking to someone the other day, who revealed that they want to dress like Alex from Wizards of Waverly Place. This person was not my daughter or any other six year old; they were, in fact, a fully grown adult woman. And truthfully, I concur. I would love to dress like Alex. She wears scarves better than anyone in the history of the world. And it got me thinking about the characters (both real and fictional) that capture my style imagination.

Five People I Whose Closets I Would Love To Raid

1. Alex Russo (Wizards of Waverly Place) - Okay, so primarily, there's the scarf thing. I mean, really... I always look like such a dope in a scarf. And believe me, I try anyway. She's always so totally casual about it and it works for her. She's also got a hippie vibe that manages to look modern enough to not be contrived. All my hippie clothes look like I'm on my way to a theme party. She layers everything and manages to look very put together and haphazard at the same time. Really, that's all I want out of my style life - to look both put together and just rolled out of bed.

2. Stevie Nicks (Fleetwood Mac and beyond) - Okay, so hear me out. There are some pretty wack-a-doodle Stevie Nicks outfits and she occasionally looks like she threw a piece of carpet over her shoulders and called it a shawl, but when she gets it right - she really gets it right. She pulls off these monochromatic outfits that you can't help but stare at and everything is layers upon layers of gorgeousness. You just can't deny that Stevie can do the layers. Also the texture. Everything has texture and she just piles it all on (which is how she gets the carpet thing going, but I'm going to forgive her that because of the lace and feathers and fringe and ruffles and everything else in which she manages to look amazing.

3. Inara Serra (Firefly and Serenity) - Okay, so in her profession as an ... um... "companion," her clothes are sometimes as not there as I would like in my wardrobe, but I love the way everything drapes and hangs. She manages to look simultaneously ready for the ball and like she's wearing her bathrobe. An amazing, beautiful bathrobe - but still. And the jewelry! Living in the world she does, her jewelry isn't particularly "fine," but it is big and statementy and never, ever overdone.

4. Donna Noble (Doctor Who) - Ah, Donna. How I miss your smart mouth. In any case, Donna has three things going for her - again with the layers. I am a sucker for layers. Also again with the jewelry. What Donna wears is big and clunky and amazingly uncontrived. The third thing I love is how Donna never, ever looks uncomfortable. Her jeans and leather jacket go with just about anything and her empire waist tops and belted dresses just look comfy enough for a nap.


5. Melinda Gordon (Ghost Whisperer) - Melinda occasionally looks idiotic. I don't know anyone who always sleeps in a low-cut, floor length flowing white nightgown. I love how Melinda mixes vintagey pieces with modern peices and shapes and comes out with something that manages to look old fashioned without looking out of fashion. And the scarves. I love the scarves.

In summary - I am schmuck for scarves, layers, statement jewelry, hippies and layers. Oh, and layers. Who are your style icons and why?

On the Way to School

I may have mentioned around here that I hate 5:45. Well, the good news is that as of this morning, I only have eight days of it left. That's right, the end of school is nigh. And with it, the end of getting up before the sun and all the weirdness therein entailed. You see, I don't think that well early in the morning. Here's a little sampling of what's going on in my mind on the way to school:

• If I could draw, I'd make a web comic series about song lyrics that just don't work for me. The first one would have a guy at a piano with a fishbowl stuffed with bread. He'd be screaming, "Alright, who put the bread in my jar?"
• I'd need more than one to do a series, though. 
• I can't think of anything else, but I'm sure I could if I wasn't so tired. Maybe later.
• It shouldn't be illegal to ram someone from behind if they are in the fast lane doing 50. 
• It would also be fun to do a web comic about misheard song lyrics. I'd start with Reverend Bluejeans.
• Although I feel certain that's been done. I would think. Maybe.
• I've got to call Morgan.
• Why do I only think to call people when it's the crack of dawn and no one on the planet is awake. I'll forget before it's a normal hour.
• I wonder if my phone needs charging.

In between all that, I'm singing along with the radio and answering the never-ending stream of "Mommy, mommy, MOMMEEEEE," for the back two seats. Not to mention, just generally trying to keep myself awake. 

But, at least the countdown is on. Nine, Nine more mornings of tortured. Hahaha Ha.

A Place for Everything

This is where my keys belong at work.
The gravestone watches over them.

Hi, my name is Jessi and I lose stuff. A lot. I come by it natural. My grandma sometimes loses her keys when she's holding them. And my mom just has so much stuff that naturally some of it goes astray. I've considered keeping a tally for a year of all the time I spend looking for things I've lost. I've never done it because it would be depressing.

My husband loses things but in a different way. Whereas I lose my sunglasses, keys, cell phone and remote six or seven times a day, he loses things once and irrevocably. (When we got married I had tools. Now I have wire snips and a drill - that I have to constantly remind him is mine. That's all I'm sayin'.)

He is annoyed by my daily losing activity. He likes to get on me about why I can't ever find my keys or where I left my phone last. "If you would just put things in the same place every day..." is like a mantra for him. It's right up there with "...and get off my lawn," in the how-I-know-I'm-married-to-an-old-man category.

It's not uncommon for him to, in a fit of ire, dump out the key bowl and list everything in it that isn't a key. Or to throw all the hairbrushes into the hallway for a week.

My typical response (because I am a lady and also a grown-up) is to tell him to go to hell. Also to tell him that if he is so interested in putting things where they belong, I should point out that in no way do socks belong in the living room. And also, "Help me find them or get out of the way, you jerk." Although I only say "jerk" when the kids are standing there.

His magic not-losing-place, by the way, is his pockets. Must be nice. I'm a girl. Not everything I have has pockets and some of them I wouldn't trust with a breath mint.

In any case, he called me today. When it was time for him to leave and go get Brynna from school.

"Did you by any chance move my keys this morning?" he wanted to know. All sweetness and light.

"Nope." I'm busy ya'll.

"I left them on the coffee table and they aren't here." Now he's getting testy.

"Are you sure you left them on the coffee table?" I prod. "Because you left them in the front door yesterday and I took them out and threw them in the key bowl."

"Yes," he yelled. "And I took them out of the key bowl and left them on the coffee table so I could find them today." I'm not sure why the coffee table (by all accounts a spot for coffee) should be a better spot to find keys than a key bowl (by my account, a decorative wooden bowl for keys).

"Okaayy..." I don't really like being yelled at when I'm at work. Because I can't yell back, of course.

"If I can't find them, you're going to have to go get Brynna!" at this point he's worked up into a fine lather. I can practically see the angry white triangle appearing on his red head.

"Well..." I'm preparing to inform him that I can't get Brynna as I've already taken a lunch break and he'll have to make some calls. Since he can, apparently, find his phone.

"Here they are," the relief in his voice is palpable.

"Where were they?"

"On the kitchen counter. Don't ask me how they got there."

And scene.

And tonight, if and when I ever get home from the accursed Grocery Store of Doom, I am so going to tell him that if he'd just put his stuff in the same place all the time...

Double Dutch Cooking

My grandma hates to cook. I don't know why. I love to cook. No I don't. Let me rephrase. I love to cook when I have time and energy and good ingredients. I hate to cook when I have ten minutes until bedtime and two starving urchins and nothing but spaghetti noodles and cottage cheese.

In any case, I believe that there should be a point in your life at which you can say, "I'm not going to do this thing that I hate any more ever again." I believe that my grandma has probably reached that point. That fact, combined with the fact she often "fixes" cereal and apples for dinner has lead me to believe that contributing to their diet is a good thing.

I try to cook for them once a week. And here's what it looks like: Say it's Tuesday night and we are going to have lasagna. I double the recipe and make two lasagnas and we eat one. Then on Wednesday, I take them the second lasagna. Since I'm cooking for four and my grandparents are only two little eaters, my hope is that the dinner I cook will last them at least two meals.

It's working out really well, when I do it. I'm not exactly hitting once a week. Part of the problem is that pesky time thing. It shouldn't be more time consuming because I'm only doubling a recipe, but it is, ever so slightly. And some nights ever-so-slightly is way too much. Some nights, ever-so-slightly will break you.

And part of it is that I am trying to give them things that they won't/can't get for themselves. Lasagna, while not hard, is kind of labor intensive and the frozen stuff sucks. Quiche was something my grandfather had never even heard of and now he asks for it at least once a month. I made them turkey burgers this week, because my grandma is an old dog when it comes to cooking tricks.

But my ideas are sort of running thin. Yeah, I can keep making the same three or four things on rotation, because they aren't getting them every night, but I don't want to. I want to keep them interested and healthy. I want to make the stuff they really like (I'm serious - quiche is a huge hit), but I don't want them to feel like it's just ho hum, Jessi brought another quiche.

So, this is my question to you. What do you make that's easy to double, not rocket science, vaguely healthy and can be found in the "Freezes Beautifully" section of your cookbook. (Figuratively, they're not really going to freeze it, but it needs to keep at least a day.)

Mother's Day

I have about 70 projects pending and 0 finished. At least 0 that I've remembered to take pictures of. In lieu of What's in My Crochet Bag this week, I'm going to write about Mother's Day gifts, from my current perspective. Which is a big sarcastic ball of glass half-empty. Just so you know. I will be entertaining exactly zero comments about appreciating what I have. I do. That doesn't mean that I can't snark about it.


Yesterday was Mother's Day. You should know this unless you don't have a mother. In which case, I'd like to offer you my condolences or ask you which alien lifeform you may be, as the case may be. For those of with mothers, Mother's Day is the one day set aside to honor our mothers and tell them just how special they are. We, in the US, typically do this by making their lives hell.

For instance, in the grand tradition of Mother's Day, my family made me breakfast in bed. This tradition is perfectly nice for those of you with maids. For those of us (read me) who are going to have to wash all of the bed linens after a jelly induced incident which is inevitable when a person under the age of 13 serves you biscuits and jelly in bed, it's joy is marginally lessened.

To be clear, my husband letting me sleep and cooking a meal and then my kids bringing me said meal and crawling in bed with me was the highlight of my day. There is nothing nicer than waking up to prepared food and non-fighting children. And if those children want to snugglebug while we eat the turkey bacon I was totally keeping aside for BLT's, then I will happily and smilingly oblige.

Another lovely tradition of Mother's Day is, of course, flowers. And because I am a practical mama, who does not like to think about my hard earned money wilting sadly in a vase on the kitchen table, I received, through the largess of my church, 3 plantable flowers - 2 petunias and a marigold. And while I greatly appreciate and love these flowers, it does, in fact, mean that I have to weed my flower patch and plant them before my house kills them.

It seems to me that most mothers receive gifts for their homes, gardens or mommy-type hobbies on this day. Perhaps it's a national nostalgia for all things motherly and applie-pie-ish. Apple pie, by the way, would make an excellent gift (as long as you, the giver, were responsible for the dishes afterwards. Or, you know what, just buy disposables. Because you're not going to actually wash them. Even if you think you are.)

You see, I love my gifts and my children and the time we spend together - I do. I agonized over the knowledge that Brynna did not want to be with me on Mother's Day and the fact that if there is only one day a year when my kids are going to be forced to be with me, whether they like it or not, it's going to be... Christmas. But Mother's Day is a close second.

It's just that it occurs to me that most "traditional" Mother's Day gifts are not helping her out any. I think we should all honor mom on her special day with what she (read I) truly wants most in the world: a maid.

Five Things on Friday - Time Machine Edition

A couple of weeks ago, I went to a local fundraiser. A guy I went with to high school was playing in the band and I thought, "If I had a time machine, one of the first things I'd do is go back and show his high school self how far the leather-clad have fallen." While the thought of that made me giggle uncontrollably for a while, it also got me thinking.

You see, it seems sort of selfish and silly. Surely, if I had a time machine the responsible thing to do with it would be to kill Hitler or explain Scarlet Fever to pioneers. Perhaps I could sneak in Mrs. O'Leary's barn and remove the lantern.

As anyone who is interested in SciFi knows, though, that's just big trouble. If you make changes that are too great to history, you completely alter the future. I may come back to find that I don't exist or that my kids don't exist or that our nation is a police state. You never know what effects even the smallest change might make on humanity. Have you seen Ashton Kutcher in Butterfly Effect?!?

So, keeping in mind that I would have to keep my actions small to limit their consequence on humanity, here are my

Five Things I'd Do with a Time Machine

How much joy your aqua
behind could bring.

1. Tell myself to keep my toys - Not only are all the things I played with in the 80's (My Little Pony, Care Bears, etc.) back in style, but they are collector's items. Even the things that weren't in good enough condition to sell would be much appreciated by my munchkins. I swear, we bought a Pound Puppy a couple of years ago. I'm pretty sure I had two or three of those. I could be saving and making a fortune on my childhood right now.

They'd never even know I was there.

2. Go to Woodstock - I figure one more or less soul in the muddy mess wouldn't make a difference and I could watch all the amazing people who died too young doing stupid stuff. I'd wear black and mourn the end of it all; watch the technicolor funeral pyre of our collective innocence and the joy and magic that comes when people let music and kids change the world. There would at least be fabulous dirges.

I wanted a Japanese Maple.

3. Plant a tree - When Ethan died, we talked about planting a tree for him, but we knew we weren't going to live in that house forever and so we put it off until we had a house of our own. Four years later, when we finally got around to moving, it was winter and so we thought we'd do it in the Spring. It's been seven years since he died and in October, it'll be eight. Planting a tree now would be silly because we're so late. If I had planted a tree right away, I could have transplanted it when we moved. It's just a memorial, not even the same as a memory, but I'd like to have one all the same.

I'd wear a peasant blouse and a long
flowy skirt, too. Because, that's why.
My time machine has a wardrobe.
Like the TARDIS.

4. Walk the Prairie - The one thing that I would truly love to see that I know I can never see is what the world was like when it wasn't ours. When you could travel forever and never see another human being. When the sun set without touching a house or a car or a road. When the world was wild.

Okay, now smile, me.

5. Take a picture of myself with Brynna - I don't like to be photographed and so I avoid it. One of the ways I avoid it is be constantly behind the camera. I have pictures of everyone else holding Brynna as a baby, but none of me. I changed that with Maren, but not by much.

What about you? Where would you go and what would you do?

Choring it Up

Are you kidding me? Being this cute is a full-time job, mom.

I didn't really have chores as a kid. It's not that I wasn't expected to help around the house (although I probably wasn't as much as I should have been - I am NOT complaining). It's just that I didn't have regular jobs. I was asked to vacuum or clean the bathroom or load the dishwasher or whatever and I was supposed to keep my own room clean (I was an abysmal failure at this). But I didn't have jobs that were assigned to me to do.

As a parent I am taking a different approach. Do I think my family was wrong? No. But I, I am a control freak and given the opportunity, I will never ask my kids to help because they won't do it right anyway. So, I assign jobs. Except, as previously noted here, I am terrible at follow-through, so I often forget that they are supposed to be doing it and do it for them, or forget to remind them or do it when they aren't home, hoping that they won't notice that I did it.

This is a constant source of something bad. Badness ensues. There is badness emanating from every pore of this practice. Brynna is already doing the push/pull, I'll-do-it-tomorrow, why-do-I-have-to, dance of laziness. Maren is not. Maren would scrub down the walls if I asked her to, or change light bulbs or clean the gutters. (Luckily, I don't have the kind of trees that drop things in your gutters, so I don't have to do this job much or I might let her.)

The thing is: I don't know what I can reasonably expect of them. I've always said that I'm going to teach Brynna to do her own laundry as soon as she can reach the bottom of the washer. Other than that, I got nothin'. Right now, she cleans the bathroom (when I remind her), puts away her laundry (badly), feeds the cats (when I remind her) and keeps her room clean (never, ever).  She's six. And I feel like she's capable of so much more. I just don't know what.

Maren helps me unload the dishwasher (faithfully and is enraged if she finds out I did it without her) and sets the table (poorly, but we're getting there).

Additionally, they are both supposed to be responsible for daily toy round up and clearing their spot at the dinner table.

Brynna loves to mop but she does such an abysmal job that I only let her mop her own room and Maren loves to work a spray bottle, so I try to give her things to clean that are down low (cabinet doors, kitchen appliance fronts, etc.) But I just feel like there's got to be a better way to do this. Like maybe a rotating daily chore so that she (and I mean Brynna, I'm doing better with Maren than I did with Brynn) doesn't get so bored? A weekly list that she can pick and choose so long as she does one thing every day? Except that I really don't know what else she could do.

Which is where I beseech you, oh internet. What should a six year old be able to do? How do you keep kids motivated to do chores? Please remember that I am as beta as they come and elaborate chore charts probably aren't going to work for me. Also, should I be asking Maren to do more? Other appropriate ideas for a two year old?