Yesterday afternoon, while outside playing, my 3-year-old was hopscotching without a rock while my 6-year-old rode her bike up and down the driveway. I strategically placed a lawn chair in front of the barn/garage in the hopes of sitting down and being able to see both girls at the same time (which was hopeless, by the way, but that’s not what this post is about) and sat down (briefly) near the hopscotch grid. My 3-year-old finished a hopscotch run with a dramatic flourish and then wandered over to me in my chair and asked:
“Mom, what’s a servant?”
“A servant?” I said. “A servant is someone who cleans up after you and does whatever you tell them to do.”
“Oh,” she said and then mulled it over a few moments. Then she smiled and said: “Oh…right. Like you. You’re our servant.”
I tried to explain the difference between a mother and a servant, but I’m sure it was lost on her. I’d love to get into it here, really delve into the feminist-political ramifications of it all, but I’ve got a shitload of dishes to wash.
By hand.
See?
aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh. I so totally feel your pain! I’m getting really tired of doing all the dishes (by hand, too) all the time. Just once, it would be nice if somebody else just did them. The kids told me the other day (when I said we had to get laundry done on Monday) that I should just go ahead and do it all myself cause they don’t like doing it. Oh, and I do? ugh! It’s a good thing that I actually like the little buggers, or so help me…
I’ve had similar conversations with my kids too. Once they were making up royal-sounding names for people, Countess Poop and Sir Stinkyhead and that sort of thing, and called me Mistress Cooks-a-lot. Yep, that’s me. The cook.
Ah…it’s so good to know I’m not alone in this strange journey called motherhood.
How did you get a picture of my kitchen sink?
Lately I find I resent dishes and cooking. But my son has started making pancakes by himself - from scratch, so a turning of the tables is going to slowly commence around here. It is my plan that they clean the kitchen every night. Maybe when my youngest is 8 we’ll be ready for that? Recently I stopped folding their laundry. I throw it clean in a basket and tell them I better not see any of it on the floor later. But I often do. But they are trying. sigh
Wait a sec…that’s your sink? Hey, I just did your dishes!
I found that I began to resent the dishes once we moved into this house and I no longer had an automatic dishwasher or a garbage disposal at my…well…disposal. (sigh) I came across pictures of the old house in CO today. For some reason, my husband snapped pictures of all the rooms in it before he left the last day. It was a bit depressing to see that. I loved my house. I really did. Oh…my neighbors were INSANE…I’m kinda glad to be away from THEM, but my house…oh, my house was Wonderful.