Tomorrow is Another Day…

Have you ever wanted to kill kids? The medieval times apparently had some great techniques. I have a far better killing device than whatever that dark, demented era ever thought up…

Cleaning.

Yep, here we go again. First, I should give credit where credit is due. The boys helped us clean yesterday. The kitchen, the living room, one vacuumed the floors and the other vacuumed the stairs, and they put their clean laundry away. They mooed moaned about it at first, but once they got started they rocked and rolled and I was impressed. Today, after skating, I asked them to clean up their toys in the basement. I was less than impressed.

Dear Lord in Heaven, I thought WWIII or armageddon or the zombie apocalypse was upon us. The noise that was emanating from down there was heard three counties over, I’m sure. One would stop cleaning and the other would start yelling that he stopped. One would start singing and other would yell to stop singing. One would throw a block and the other would yell about it. Then they’d both coming running to be the first to tattletale.

I would tell them I didn’t want to hear it from either of them, to get back down there and finish cleaning, and I would return to cleaning the kitchen. They’d storm back down. Then the fighting would resume. They knew they had until suppertime (an hour from when they started) to get it clean. It could have taken them fifteen minutes. After an hour, they had barely started. After supper, I asked, “How many garbage bags should I take to the basement? Will I fit what’s left to clean in just one or should I take more?” The reply I got was zero (which is a number and it’s even) and they went back down to clean.

Can you believe they started fighting again? So at 6pm they were sent to their room to get pajamas on and get ready for bed.

We were done.

Now the basement door is locked and their toys are off limits. DW and I will go through them and round up all the ones they no longer play with and relocate them to a new home or toss them to the curb if they’re no good.

So today was just one of those days. They usually happen around this time of year. You would think with Christmas coming and the prospect of Santa and joy and decorations and music that happiness would abound. Alas, no. The stress and the pressure build up like magma under the volcano until it all erupts.

The silver lining? I have evidence that the 10 year old still believes. When I told him I was collecting his toys in garbage bags he told me that I could explain to Santa why all their toys were thrown out.

Now they’re asleep. There’s no more arguing and bickering. All is quiet. There’s even a dusting of snow outside. Even if it won’t last because it’s supposed to be 9 (48F) on Wednesday, it’s still calming to look at.

Here’s to starting over tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day. I just hope it’s not another day of sibling rivalry.

For all the fun stuff, follow me on Instagram (Crash pretending to be Frosty) or on Facebook or Twitter.

Best Motivator Ever!

I don’t mean to brag or anything, but….

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I did get the boys to clean up their toys in the basement and they vacuumed.

So what if I had throw some of their stuff (including a Minecraft (*GASP!* book) in the garbage bag. Best. Motivator. Ever.

There might have been a few a tears. Though, once they started cleaning I stopped putting toys in the garbage bag. This, in turn, stopped the flow of tears.

Then, once they had the basement cleaned, I dumped the garbage bag of toys and they cleaned those up, too.

Now they’re playing on their plasma cars in all the freed up space they made by cleaning.

Movie night tonight, after supper, too…

how-the-grinch-stole-christmas-movie-poster-1966-1020462818

Boom!
There’s my post for today.

Chore Chart Update

I haven’t given an update on how Crash and Bang are doing with their chores in a couple weeks. I bet you’re just dying to know how it’s going.

I wish I could say they’ve really stepped up their game and are taking the chart seriously. I wish I could say they have been earning extra money and have saved up a fair chunk of change. I wish I could say they no longer argue about having to do chores. I wish I could say they come looking for chores to do so they can earn more money. I wish I could I say they’re putting us in the poor house.

But all of that would be a big, fat, lie. Bigger than Nixon saying “I am not a crook.”

It’s still a headache to get Crash to clean. With the drama that ensues, you would think I was asking him to kiss Jabba the Hutt. Today, all I wanted him to do was put away his laundry that I had spent most of Saturday washing. Bang put his away, no questions asked. Crash acted as if he had to pick up dung beetles. Hey lay on his floor face down. He moaned. He argued that he didn’t want to. 20 minutes later he finally got started. He damn near needed supervision. He didn’t want to hang up his clothes in his closet. He tried to just throw them in.

I don’t think so chach.

Then I asked him to make his bed. Then I asked him to pick up all his books off the floor. I thought he was going to cry. By the end of it all, his room was tidied and DW and I were pissed that we had worked harder to get him to clean than it was for him to actually do the cleaning.

All I have to say is, thank God for bedtime.

So, in total, Crash earned a whopping $1. He did four chores all week. HA! Too bad he peed on the toilet seat twice and I had to clean up one of his meals. At .25 per infraction, he had to return .75 of his $1. Yes. He earned a quarter last week. Bang got to keep his dollar. He did four chores as well. He’s taken to sitting down to pee “like mom”. Therefore, he no long pees on the seat.

I feel partly to blame (just a small, tiny, minuscule, microscopic even). I didn’t keep on them last week. I didn’t make them do chores regularly and therefore they started believing they didn’t have to do them. They were cleaning up their messes after meals. So I have to give them credit for doing at least that.

This week will be better. They’ll get back to doing chores regularly. Right after school. I’ll let you know how it goes.

waiting

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