Illustration by Christiana Sandoval Woodard
Saturday mornings were a familiar routine as a kid: sleep in, eat cereal, clean house. My mother, outfitted in yellow latex gloves and let’s-do-this bandana, would blast Motown and hop to it. I learned early: Scrub and be pissy about it, or just scrub. Either way, there would be scrubbing, so why not start with wiping that frown right off my face. “Who’s ready for inspection?” she’d say — even though I was an only child — and then she would ooh and ahh over my Comet and Windex–fueled labors. When I hadn’t given it enough elbow grease, she sent me back like an undercooked steak. But when it was right, her atta-boy came with wide smiles and a handful of peanut M&M’s.
Having matriculated through the restaurant industry, the notion of side-work has always been there. Nowadays, schlepping kids and tidying the 4-year-old’s room have replaced folding napkins or filling salt and pepper shakers. Yet my kids don’t seem to get it. When it comes to chores, there’s so much hemming, hawing and half-assing, that I started wondering if it’s just me.
I took an informal poll. Although far from scientific, the prevailing winds suggest that this generation of parents is soft on grime. In our attempts to reinforce work ethic, we’ve experimented with charts, apps, checklists and the KonMari method. We’ve incentivized with treats and threats, but neither the carrot nor the stick have been decisive. Each honey-do list is met with more adolescent head scratching than a lice check.
In our house, we’re dealing with the F-word: Fairness. The perceived injustice of one kid sweeping the floor while a sibling only folds laundry is all too real. Akin to degrees of difficulty in Olympic diving, the children insist that each chore carry with it a plus or minus that parents consider in their calculus of labor assignments. Hogwash. Instead, I shared the law of large numbers and explained that over their chore-doing life, things simply even out. Nonetheless, we’re cognizant of when the dish-doer needs a helper or, when following our bi-weekly housekeeper, for example, the mop-pusher is in reality accomplishing less than a lame duck president. Did you catch that? Housekeeper. Every other week, a tireless woman does the loos and floors. So why is it that our kids still think of themselves as exploited extras in “The Jungle?”
In the end, we’re trying to raise team players who self-police. Here’s our six-fold approach to chores with a Blended Seven:
1. Tiers of clean. To avoid tears, we’ve established three levels of domestic tasks: Daily pick-up, weekly reset and quarterly deep cleaning.
2. Invite people over. Our 14-year-old threw an end-of-school year party. Since it was her gig, she invested herself. When kids have people over, put them in charge of prep and cleanup. If they fail, no more hangouts for a cycle.
3. Assign to personality, according to ability. When one kid cares more than the others about delicates, detergents and drying times, a blanket approach to laundry makes no sense. Figure out who’s good at what and use it to everyone’s advantage.
4. Chore with intention. Once, the boys were told to clean out the silverware and utility drawers. After doing a grumpy, careless job, I pulled out the drawers, dumped them on the floor and made them redo it. Demonstrate that a lack of mindfulness may lead to a do-over.
5. Dictate standards. Kids are sponges, but they’re not born knowing what to do with one. Show them exactly how you want tasks completed.
6. Start young. A 2-year-old can’t polish the silver, but a 4-year-old can help pick up toys.
Chores now reinforce time management and personal responsibility later. Big kids especially should be more than a flailing sack of needs. Teach them to harness the whirlwinds that they are and show them how their snow drift of dirty clothes affects everyone.
If I’ve left you with more questions than answers, it’s because that’s where we are. What works (or doesn’t) in your household? We’re aiming for leave-no-trace roommateship, at least in common spaces, but as that trail of gluten-free breadcrumbs in our kitchen suggests, we’re not there yet. Nevertheless, each Saturday morning is a step forward.
