Pleasantly Surprised

Sometimes I wonder if anything I'm saying or working on with my kids has any impact on them. I often feel like my words sound like the teacher on Charlie Brown--or that the kids are just tuning them out. But sometimes I am pleasantly surprised by the results.

Take yesterday for example. I was working with the kids on their weekly chores. Abbie was distracted as usual, but as long as you stay on top of her she'll get the job done and do it well. Kiersten is my complainer when it comes to chores. This is nothing new to me. It happens every week, about the same way.

Yesterday Kiersten hadn't even started and was sitting on her bed complaining about how terrible it was to have to do chores. You have to know that at the time she was working on cleaning her room and bathroom. And you also have to know that her bedroom was picked up all week so all she had to do was straighten, dust and vacuum and thoroughly clean the bathroom. You would have thought I had thrown her into a child labor factory. "But it's too hard." Is it really? This from the child to whom I just explained the concept of compound interest and ESAs and taxes and how much she will have if she starts saving her money now (her eyes got pretty wide when she saw the end amount and a lightbulb went on over her head--she immediately went upstairs and split up her money into different saving piles and asked when she could open up accounts).

But we finally got through the bedroom list, except vacuuming (I like that saved until everything else is done). Moved onto the bathroom. Halfway through I heard, "Mom, I don't want to do anymore." Me: "But doesn't it feel good to have a clean bathroom?" Kierst: "Yes, but it's not worth it. It's too much work just to have it clean. And it takes too long" Me: "In the time that you have complained about it you could already be done." This kind of exchange went on for the next 10 minutes until she broke down and finished the shower.

Then it was time to vacuum her room. "But the vacuum is too heavy and I just vacuumed last week." By that time I couldn't take it anymore. I'll admit that I lost it. I launched into a tirade of Bill Cosby Show phrases like, "When you move out your house can be a pigsty but while you are living in my house your room will be cleaned to my standards," and "Every member of this house helps out--if you don't like it you can live in the garage." And if you've ever pulled out these kind of phrases, you can probably fill in a few of your own.

She did vacuum her room, and of course, like always, was amazed at the amount of dirt the vacuum picked up.

Flash forward past her basketball practice and Chris meeting me for dinner after work to me kissing her goodnight. Our conversation went something like this: Me: "Wow, your room looks so nice. Doesn't it feel good to have a clean room?" Kierst: "Yes it does. And you know Mom, it was worth the work."

I smiled one of my biggest smiles at her. It wasn't any kind of magical phrase that I had used, but I knew that after all these days, weeks, months, of lectures it had just clicked in her head. I know that it may not last, that next week I might be in for the same battle. But for a brief moment I was floating on Cloud 9, just enjoying the ride.