It's All About Me

I'm a young-ish mom to Olivia (on the brink of being old-ish) who looks for humor in most situations but can be overly sarcastic at times.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

I Am A Bloody Genius

Olivia isn't known for keeping her room clean. Olivia is known for telling me just how bored she is because there is nothing to do. My answer is always: "Then go clean your room." This is always met with a very loud, "That's boring!" and then an equally loud, "I'm hungry!"

On Saturday morning, I told Olivia that I had a very important project for her to work on over the weekend.

Olivia likes projects. Olivia was intrigued.

I told Olivia that she needed to bring everything out of her room and divide them into three separate piles. I put three pieces of paper on the living room floor that said: KEEP, GARBAGE and GIVE AWAY. I told Olivia that I could not help because only she could decide into which pile her things belonged.

Olivia likes projects. Olivia was excited.

Hour One: Lots of energy; stuff coming out of her room at an impressive rate.

Hour Two: Break #1.

Hour Three: Not so much energy; stuff coming out of her room at a medium-slow rate. Break #2.

Hour Four: Tears, tears and tears. Break #3.

Hour Five: Lunch. Back to work. I'm a mean mommy.

Hour Six: Stuff coming out of her room whenever it feels like coming out of her room. I poked my head in to see what was going on to find Olivia reading a book. I commented that she was running out of time to earn the reward.

"Reward? What reward? You didn't say anything about a reward, Mama!"

"Yep, everything in your room has to be in one of the piles before bedtime or you won't get the reward."

Stuff coming out of her room at an impressive rate.

Bribes are good.

Hour Seven: Lots of crashes and bangs coming from her room as well as..."This is stupid!..."I'll never finish in time!"..."Awwwwww, why do I have so much stuff?!?"..."Why am I doing this?"..."I'm doomed!"

Hour Eight: "Mama, do I have to get the stuff under my bed, too? NOOOOO! That's not fair! I thought you only meant the stuff in the middle of my room! You're a mean mommy!" Break #4. Back to work. Unintelligable mumbling coming out of her room. I'm pretty sure it was hateful crap about me.

Hour Nine: "I'm never going to let my room get this messy ever again!"

That was what I was waiting for. Now, she can have some ice cream.

I am a bloody genius.

Now...what do I do with this giant GARBAGE pile?

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