I Am Not Laughing Anymore

I laughed when a friend in Marblehead told me what she had to do to get her kid's attention. Despite repeated naggings, her kids rooms were always a mess. She wasn't asking much in her opinion. She was asking that, when the cleaning help came, they could vacuum the floor. She further had asked that laundry be put in the laundry hamper and sheets be changed once in a while.

I would have gone a lot further if it were me. My kids didn't grow up with cleaning help, nor did I do their laundry. Well, that started when my son was about 11 and I dyed all his clothes a nice color of pink. I guess it wasn't all that OK to go to gym class in pink boxers.  I just stuck his laundry back in his room hoping he wouldn't notice. He came storming into my bedroom (not allowed) and put his hands on his hips and declared, "I am NEVER going to let you do my laundry again. NEVER. Do you understand me?" I had to bite my cheeks to keep from laughing while I accepted his grave disappointment in me and vowed never to wash another thing of his, ever.

The truth is that my kids are great housekeepers, always have been. We had to pull together and make fast business of the housework if we wanted to have fun on the weekends, like go skiing. I was a single parent and worked several jobs. The kids got good at everything. By the time they were driving, they could get a rental truck and move us entirely. They painted the house one summer and Tom Sawyered a bunch of friends into helping. My son had a chain saw when he was 13 and cut our firewood. I am bragging now.

I had been determined about this. Before my oldest was 1, I met this lovely hippie lady with a bunch of kids. She went to Guatemala with the kids for the winters. When they were getting ready to take off one year, she told her kids (the youngest about 3 1/2) to get ready. They all scrambled and got their backpacks, took the clothes they wanted, got their tooth brushes and favorite toys and books and were ready to go before she was. My role model in that department. (Maybe something about Guatemala, too.) It was one of the goals I achieved. Not without a few mishaps like Alice forgetting her passport when going to the Bahamas with the Crowes when she was 11 or so and missing her flight while I drove the passport to the airport. She flew alone on the next flight. All well.

About my friend. Her nagging did not work, so she got a little more serious. When it was time for the kid's room to be vacuumed, she put all the stuff that was on the floor and disappeared it. She ignored the whines of the kids. Next, when her thick kids didn't change their bedding, she disappeared the bed. The kids were in agonies of righteous indignation. She said "There is a simple solution. do what I ask." Her kids learned their lesson. I thought she was cool, also.

So, in this department things worked out well for me. I had to take little beatings now and then, like when Alice chewed me out for having a messy car and said she cleaned it so she wouldn't be embarrassed when her friends rode with me. Good plan, Julie.

But I am running into young people today who really don't get it. We have Greeley's grandson living with us. His room smells bad. Like you can smell it from the hall. Our furnace is in his closet. The other day, with fair warning I knocked on his door around 9 AM to tell him and his girl friend that the furnace guys had arrived to do some work. He got really upset and wanted me to arrange for them to come back in the afternoon so they could sleep some more. I was so shocked I just stood there and finally said, "No, not happening. Get moving." I was shocked because, as you know, it takes a lot of effort, money and phone calls to get repairmen to the house. I was shocked because the room was a pig pen. I was shocked because they don't work, they don't pay rent, they never lift a finger and they were offended at something being asked of them.

I have heard the word "entitled" over and over for various groups of people. I now get it. In the case of these unconscious twenty somethings it seems to mean "Rights Without Responsibilities." Lief has the right to his privacy (no one can come into his space) but takes no responsibility for taking care of it. He has a right to his preferred lifestyle and that incurs no responsibilities. If he were sick or mentally challenged or there was some extenuating circumstance, I would be full of sympathy. He is not. I am not.
I am ready to "clean" his room. I am ready to remove everything on the floor and disappear it. I am ready to take away the sheets and blankets if they are not washed. I am not a mean person, but I am having mean thoughts. First I have to get my head on right and then I will figure out whether I can teach responsibility responsibly.