Mama-Come-Lately

I have two brothers, one slightly older and one much younger. My parents got divorced (a good thing, believe me) as I entered my tween years, and my mom worked several jobs and rented out rooms to keep us in the same house and schools while my dad moved several times, got remarried, and bought tons of cool stuff for himself and his new family instead of paying child support. Why, divorced dads? Why?

Anyway. The slightly older brother and I were responsible for basic chores: vacuuming, mopping, dishes, bathrooms, etc. I don’t remember dusting but I think we did our own laundry because I definitely remember the creepy, damp, spidery basement. With dirt floors in some areas. I think. Memories are tricky.

Anyway. I don’t remember who decided on a chore chart to keep things fair, but my money’s on mom. She told me, when I was in college, that she used managerial techniques on us all the time because she figured they would work just as well at home as in the office. In other words, she raised us like a boss.

Anyway. Chores. There was a chart. A handwritten chart that was redrawn once a month or so, probably by me, “the creative one.” We each had a mix of easy and crappy jobs and we switched once a week so that nobody was stuck doing the same things forever. In theory, it was a perfect plan. In practice, though, it did not work, especially for me, because my older brother, lovely grownup though he is, liked to make up his own rules. He did it when we played Monopoly (which is why I stopped playing with him) and he did it with the damn chore chart. He didn’t have to be clever about it, though: he just didn’t do his chores. It was the perfect plan, really.

Because I kind of like cleaning.