Okay, so I went back and read over my previous posts. I had an epiphany. THEY ARE BORING! It's true. Some topics are just boring by nature. Others don't have to be and won't.
Take this post, for instance, I promise not to make it too boring.
The Lovely Spouse, the glue that binds this family together, she who begats children, she who feeds me so well, she who can organize a closet in short order and come out looking like a supermodel, came home from "work" today with two clipboards. Each clipboard had a chart she'd made attached by the little clippy thing at the top. Each chart was labeled, "Noah's Chores" and "Gigi's Chores". Sounds pretty simple, right?
Not so fast...the heathen masses, both of them, took one look at the clipboards and charts, groaned collectively, in spite of not being twins or joined at the hip, shoulder or head, and began to complain loudly. The Girl Child, all of her 9 year old attitudinal self, stood up and declared, "Let me just go ahead and ground myself so we can get this over with!" She then took her plate of biscuits and gravy (because we love having breakfast for dinner, that's why!) and tromped off to her room. Of course, the Queen of Grace left a trail of gravy on the hardwood and a small dog licking the floor behind her. It was quite a show actually and I don't think this description does it justice.
The Boy Child, all 11almost12 of him, sighed his best depressed and emo sigh, looked up at us both with suicidal tendencies dancing in his eyes and said, "What is this about?" Flat affect, no real emotion except seething depression.
The Spouse, Queen of My Existence, etc., etc., called the heathen Girl Child back, sat them both at the table and began to explain her very efficient and organized chart. Eyes glazed on both of them. Then, slowly and in sync, the eyes rolled back in their heads. Mouths gaped open, flies came in and out, drool ran down their chins and mouth breathing ensued.
The Boy Child was the first to stammer out, "I don't understand what you're talking about." The chart was dutifully placed in front of him and explained in detail, again. "So, I only have to exercise one time this month?" he gurgled. The Spouse breathed in slowly, exhaled, then began explaining the chart a third time. She used another piece of paper to cover up sections of the chart that dealt with future weeks and future assigned chores. She focused on just the exercise portion. (Sidenote: Exercise is considered a chore in this house because we ALL hate it so much! All except the Girl Child. We're not sure where she really came from but we're investigating the possiblity of a mix-up at the hospital.)
The Boy Child looked at her and the paper, seeming to comprehend. Then he said, "I still don't get this. So, I have to exercise for one week a month or something?" The Spouse turned from the Boy without hitting him or anything!
She turned to the Girl Child and said, "Let's look at yours for a minute." She explained that the Girl Child had to read three times per week for 30 minutes at a time and that all she had to do was put a check mark on the day she completed her reading session. This child's eyes glazed over at the word "reading" and she went to whatever magical place she lives in most days. Finally, she looked up at The Spouse and said, "Huh? I don't get it."
The Spouse responded with "What is it you don't understand?! You have to read for 30 minutes three times per week! You put an X or a check mark on the day of the week you do it. You should have three days with Xs or check marks on it!"
The Girl Child looked some more and then said, "I still don't get it." She then walked away from the table leaving the Spouse holding both charts and mumbling to herself. I heard things like "I worked really hard on these...Why can't they understand them...How can they not understand a chart..." and there was something mumbled about "...their father's blood". That would be me. I am more than a sperm donor; I'm a father, you know.
After the charts were put away and the kids wandered back to where they'd left their electronic appendages, she told them that she would redo the charts and that failure to complete their assigned tasks would result in a loss of "technology time". Again, the twin-like moaning and groaning.
Being the good Father/Husband/Sperm Donor, I chimed in with a question: "What do they get for doing it correctly?" Let me tell you...that was not the right question to ask at the time! The eyes turned red, the nostrils flared and her head twisted around unnaturally. I think she realized that she needed my earning potential more than she wanted me dead so she regained control and announced that four weeks of perfect charting and choring would result in a $20 reward for each of them.
It was at this point that I was not convinced that I was in the same room with the woman I married. $20 for each?! This woman does not part with money easily and I don't get $20 to eat out on a month! If you have ever lost faith in the Holy Ghost or the Spirit of the Lord, let this be an example of living proof of its existence! The Dove came down and lighted on her shoulder, whispered in her ear and set her free. For the moment.
At the mention of $20, both heathen looked up and, again in twin-like synchronicity, said, "Huh?! What was that about $20?!" She had them! She beat the little pecker-heads at their own game! I'm not sure, but I'm pretty convinced that they were acting confused so as to discourage her and get this whole "chore chart" thing to go away. Knowing her frustration level after having worked with pre-k disabled children all day, they were trying to play her like a well used violin. Yet, THE MASTER would not be defeated! She used their own greed and avarice against them and snagged them in her net of chores!
Know this...Never, Never, Never Underestimate the Power of The Spouse. This is one wicked lady and I adore and worship her.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get her to give me a chore chart so I can earn $20 a month.