Talk of Summer

As we get close to the end of another school year, I feel it coming on like a freight train.  My jaw is a little tighter, my shoulders slightly hunched and my brow gently furrowed.  Summer. *sigh*


My lovely children are under the impression that this house is 1) a democracy 2) a place where their vote counts 3) if you tell me a lie enough times, I will believe it is the truth.


It begins shortly after lunch. My children will call (or text) to find out what time I'm coming home. I"ll tell them usually fifteen to thirty minutes later than expected because I know they want to half-ass their chores in the time it takes me to pull up, activate the garage door, and actually step inside.  Once I do, the conversations go like this:


"Hello lovely mother. We have made you a treat because you have worked so hard at your job today to provide a better life for us." ~ a plate of cookies is laying decoratively on the counter (or a sundae in the freezer or a cake...you get it right?)  The dishes needed to create such thoughtful culinary masterpieces are still laying in the sink now dried with miscellaneous sugars, icings, and other sticky substances. 

"Hi. Did you take the dogs out today?"


"Oh yes Mother, they were well behaved but lonely for your company as were we."


"Did you watch much television today? Or did you get done what I asked on the list?" my foot is tapping; a sure fire signal that I already have seen nothing was done/made besides an additional mess to clean up.


"Oh no Mother, we worked hard at mopping, vacuuming, cleaning the bathrooms ...just as you so rightfully asked."


"Bull."


There is a mock wounded gasp and alligator tears well up.  They should be on stage because they even manage to work the quivering lip into their performance.  "Why Mother..." their voices soft and fragile.


"Show me." I sigh and shift my jaw to keep from laughing.  This is going to get good.


Not much differently than a "Price is Right " girl, I am shown all the wonderful jobs they have "accomplished" to make my daily life more comfortable.  They ran the vacuum so fast, poor Magnus actually threw up some dust bunnies.  He didn't even have time to leave tracks; not a single one.  The sweeping? well, they sort of did it but they swept it onto the carpet for Magnus to eat and ... he simply didn't have time.  So there is a pile on the carpet. Mopping? The package of wipes is unopened, untouched and still resting quietly in the cupboard.  And then there are the bathrooms.  Having two males in the house, there are certain "requirements" when you clean.  They just exist.  Throw Winston into the mix of happily sharing the "marking spot" and it is a job that needs regular attention. They managed to reorganize their toothbrushes and turn out the light from the previous night but much like the males in my house...they missed the target. I am walking along behind them with my hand clasped behind my back desperately clutching for a straight face while they parade their successes in front of me.


"So you didn't watch television?"


"Ohhh NO Mother. You asked us not to until we were finished. May we watch it now perhaps?"


I lick my lips and enjoy the taste of what I am about to do: lower the boom.  I walk out to the television and, laying my hands on it pull them back as if burned.  Then I used the remote that is NOT where I left it in the morning and turn it on.  Teen Nick is screaming at my face which is odd because when I went to bed I was watching the Travel Channel. I pose this question to the tiny slaves in my home.

"Perhaps.." they begin but I brush my hair from my face tap my foot some more and raise my eyebrows to allow complete permeation of the the lie about to unfurl.

"the cable company had to reset some things and..."

I shake my head like a pitcher on the mound. Nope. Try again.

"The dogs spent time on the sofa so their feet might have..."

I repeat my rejection and throw up two fingers.  This is it fans. It's go time.  I relish the moment that they realize I'm not budging. I really do.  Is it a childish and tawdry victory? Perhaps but to quote my offspring: It makes my life happier. Say it with me: It's trite.... but I like it.  So as their shoulders sag and they close their eyes in defeat the truth comes out.

"We watched TV."

"All day?"

A dramatic crushing sigh fills each un-vacuumed, un-mopped, half-swept crevice in my home.

"Yes."

Now it is I who must rear back and sigh.  It's out there. I purse my lips and look around.  I'm mad and frustrated but they told me.  The truth.  "Well," I begin, "What should we do?"

My son's is the first offer. "Go out for supper and regroup".

I look at the floor to try to keep from exploding in laughter.  He's my firecracker all right.  His sister takes the stoic approach; all but singing the "work song" from Cinderella. I was thinking "Nobody Knows the trouble I've seeeeen..." but that is just a creative familial difference.   I have no choice.  I divvy up the chores again and get out all the things they need to complete them.  I set the timer and holler "go!" they start to rush and then as I pitch in I see them smile just a little and work a titch harder.  I have always promised them that telling the truth gets you a lot less trouble than lying.  It was the least I could do.  Granted I simply wiped the counters and put a few dishes away, but I felt honestly, I'd done my part.

Then we ate cookies.

Welcome summer.

Well, it's been crazy busy and I'm starting to get nervous. The kids are helping me greatly with such...distractions.  I'm sorry we've not been able to spend more time together, I do miss your company.  Almost there Warrior fans.

See you soon