CDW Choreorganizers

May 15th, 2009


I was heartily inspired after reading P-Dub’s recent post on how she get those little cowpokes of hers to help out around the house.

Just a little card!

With a little picture!

And a brief explanation!

Brilliant!

So I made a few of my own choreganizers… customized for a family of four boys… and I can’t wait to see the results!
Would you like to see them?


This is one chore that makes my life a living hell. But now with these choreganizers, I will never have to face it again!

I decided to divide this particular chore into several steps so that my boys will not get overwhelmed…by the fumes… and the sickening responsibility!


Why?

Why?
Why did I ever let them stand up to pee?
Why didn’t I just keep holding them on the toilet as they balanced there whizzing away.
Why didn’t I somehow force them to keep sitting down?
Or at the very least teach them far better aim!
Do they even look at the toilet when they are peeing?
Because it seems more like they are running in the opposite direction of the toilet, or turning in circles, or trying to hit everything except the water in the bowl!

I have to be honest here, if one of my boys even makes even the slightest tremor of a sound while I am hacking away at the daily urine build-up, I have a tendency to react in extremely inappropriate ways.
Like reaching for the large bottle of aspirin in the medicine cabinet and pouring it down my throat.
Or worse – picking up the chainsaw I was using to break the congealed rind of urine between the floor and the stool – and tearing after one of my sons.

So I am really counting on these choreganizers to turn my life around. To make me a more balanced, agreeable, friendly, cute, perky mom! Just like the moms in all the TV commercials!

This has to work. Because if it doesn’t, I am locking them out of all the bathrooms for good and they can just go outside! Then the bathroom will be mine…
ALL MINE!
MOOHAAHAAHAA!!!
MOOHAAHAAHAA!!!

It is probably a complete mistake to post this story, but I feel the need to cleanse myself of a little iniquity.

My sister April, used to live in Saint Louis and I would frequently pack up my four boys and head to her house for a long weekend. Sometimes my parents would also be there and we would have a high old time driving April insane with our shopping needs and eating out at exotic restaurant needs which none of us could do back in small town Kansas. We often took all the kids out with us on these shopping and eating excursions because WE ARE IDIOTS.
So after a few hours of hitting the big box stores, we decided to get some lunch and we all decided that The Saint Louis Bread Company would be an excellent spot. Except for Drew my third son who was maybe three or four at the time and loathed The Bread Company. He hated The Bread Company. He despised The Saint Louis Bread Company. I have no idea why. We did not have a Bread Co. anywhere near us in KANSAS. Where did he form this strong opinion? What was it based on? The only time we ever went to Saint Louis Bread Co. was when we visited April’s house. Drew was only three. I couldn’t understand how any truly horrifying culinary experience could possibly be permanently imbedded in his toddler brain. But somehow, it was and he decided to throw one long fit inside The Bread Co. to prove it.
He whimpered, he whined, he gurgled, he moaned. The rest of us settled into our soup and sandwiches and tried to ignore him, but he just wouldn’t give it up. I was stern, I cajoled, I threatened, I pointed my finger and hissed, I tried to clog my ears with little bits of bread, but my three year old was getting the best of me.
Finally, I realized that we were sitting right by a huge window that looked out on the curb where April’s minivan was parked. She was in fact parked right in front of the store and I had a perfect view of her van. So I said, “Drew, if you don’t stop whining about your lunch right this very minute, I am going to put you in the van and you can whine all you want and no one will be able to hear you!”
Drew kept right on whining.
So I said it again – Right this second…stop whining… car… no one hears you… etc etc…
Drew looked me in the eye, decided I was bluffing, kicked it up a notch and threw himself on the floor in a rage.
I gotta tell ya, I was not exactly maintaining my composure at this point, but we were in a crowded restaurant and I did manage, with as much dignity as possible, to gather him up and carry him out, open up the van, wrangle him into his car seat, shut the door and walk right back into the restaurant.
When I walked back in, one table in particular was looking at me with huge melon eyes. I realized that it might be shocking to watch a woman stick her vibrating toddler in a van and walk away, but we could clearly see the van from our table and we were just about done with our lunch anyway. As I approached our table, April frantically motioned to me and in hushed tones she said…
“Rechelle..”
“What?”
At the same time the melon eyed people walked up to the table and said…
“Ma’am…”
“Yes?”
And then together they all explained.
I had not put Drew in April’s van.
I had put my tantrum throwing child in the melon eyed people’s van!
And there sat Drew, still crying, still flailing, still wailing…. in a complete stranger’s car.
I slunk back out to the van and got my son.
And I never used the old “taking the kid out to the car to teach him a lesson” mode of discipline again!
These days Drew picks all the restaurants.
Oh and Panera – or The Bread Co. is his very favorite place to go.
I am not even kidding you.

Long ago in the days of yore….

As pink and purple dusk woman shot magenta rays across the little water.

In the season of bone baking fire time…

Only the most skilled and brave men would be sent forth to load their sailing vessels with the sacred crop of algae.

So that the tribe could feed itself… and make clothes… and build the simple tent like structures… woven from the sacred algae threads.

The hearty and brave men placed themselves in great peril to get the sacred algae, but they all loved to suffer so much that it was almost fun for them.

Deeper and deeper into the murky depths they ventured, carefully avoiding the snapping turtles and the water snakes…

Neighboring tribes had long ago abandoned the algae harvest.

They had begun to sprinkle the mystical powders and to use the magic enzymes to keep the algae from forming.

They had forgotten the ancient rhythms of olde.

And so the last lone tribesman worked on and on… as mother sun descended to her cave of night… and father moon rose to his lofty perch… the tribesman trusted to the wisdom of the song frogs to guide him.

Neck deep he continued… scooping algae…. loading algae….
He mused quietly that the more he scooped… the more there seemed to be.

It was as if the algae muse was granting him a blessing of an unending algae tide.
He drew the algae vapors into his nostrils and felt complete.

Night descended. The tribe slept. The algae drifted and multiplied and the tribesman drug his heavily laden boat up on the shore. His shoes squished with the mud of his ancestors. He dug his hand into his mountain of algae and raised it to the sky in triumph and felt vast relief knowing his tribe would eat, and be clothed and be sheltered for the algae harvest had been bountiful.


Dripping water and mud he wandered back into his hut.

Tomorrow they would feast, and weave and build.

But tonight he must rest.
He shut his eyes and slept the sleep of the deeply satisfied.
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