This is the last day of our four-day break between trips. We got home from our family vacation to Florida last Friday night, and tomorrow morning we leave for our denomination's National Conference, the every-other-year denominational business meetings.
Despite only being home a few days, the den is a mess again and so are the kids' rooms.
Before he left for work today, Hubby posted two chores for the kids: pick up their rooms, and clean up the den.
I really dislike it when chores get assigned by Hubby and I have to enforce them. It doesn't go well. It was worse when we first started insisting they had to do chores, so it's better now, to a certain extent.
It amazes me what kids will do in order to get out of doing their assigned chores.
They had the morning to do what they wanted, but after lunch I said it was time to do their chores.
"Go clean your rooms, and when you're done, pick up the den," I told them.
Meanwhile, I've done two loads of laundry, cleaned up three out-of-the-box cat messes, treated the floor in those locations so it doesn't get done again, scooped litterboxes (OUCH), remailed Mille's birthday card that got sent back to me, and cooked lunch.
And they're griping that they have nothing to do. Oh, but you do! (I'm so mean.)
Shortly thereafter, I walked into the kitchen, where I found Small and Medium "cleaning" things.
"Look at all this mail I found!" Medium crowed.
It's the mail from last week, when we were gone. Which I had sorted into piles. Now back in a huge single pile.
I closed my eyes and stifled the urge to scream. "Medium, I had that all sorted!"
"What are you guys doing in here?"
"Daddy said we could clean up the kitchen!"
"No. You have to clean your rooms and the den first."
"But Daddy said..."
"You have to do your assigned chores first, before you do anything else!"
They grumbled and went upstairs.
I went upstairs half an hour ago to take my anti-inflammatory pain med (the MRI of my wrist was yesterday; fluid pocket noted, but diagnosis pending until my appointment on 7/5), and found them running around upstairs. Large Fry was barking at Pa'ani and chasing him, poor kitty. Then she ran into our bedroom and picked up Small's stuffed Toby, chirping, "Small wants him back!"
"What are you doing in my room?!" I shouted from the bathroom. Large skipped towards the door without answering. "What are you doing in my room?"
"Small wants this back!"
I hadn't heard her say that, and they were sure being loud enough.
"Bring it back!" I ordered.
She thankfully obeyed. "I'm helping Medium with her room!"
"Is your room clean?"
Large's face drooped. "No."
"Then go clean it!"
"But Medium helped with the mess!"
"I don't care. You clean your room, and they'll clean their room."
Then I sent Hubby a text, asking when he might be home today. He called me instead.
Meanwhile, upstairs, there was running and giggling and happy shrieks and general insanity.
I decided to wait for Hubby to get home and lay down the law. He's the one with the I Will Be Obeyed voice.
Golly, I need caffeine.