A Letter To My Kids - The Maid Will Not Be Coming

My Dearest Children:

Your father and I are what is commonly known as the working class. While this means that we are slightly above poverty level and can still afford to do things like take you to see Disney's Frozen, it also means that we will not be hiring a maid, cook, butler, or any other form of domestic help anytime in the near future.

That being said, I would like to share a couple things that are on my mind from this weekend:

1. Please stop putting your clean folded laundry back in the basket. I'm not entirely certain which one of my lovely children decided that it would be better to pile the dirty laundry on top of the clean laundry, but as I went to start a new load this afternoon I discovered several pieces that I could swear I just washed a few days ago. Based on the fact that it was still neatly folded in the basket, I'm certain you assumed it would just be more convenient to have me wash it again then to actually put it away. Should there be another attempt to be clever when cleaning your room like that again, you will be responsible for washing your own clothes hence forth.

2. An entire bag of Doritos is not an option for lunch. On Saturday I made a large pan of Taco Bake. Since I already knew we had a lot of running to do today before the next polar vortex swoops down and possibly buries us alive (for the second time this month) I prepared a meal that would be easy for you to simply pop in the microwave so that you had something both warm and filling in your bellies. I can appreciate that seeing me walk in with several armloads of groceries fueled your appetites, but I do not believe that you were so starving at that exact moment that you couldn't wait 10 minutes for me to put it away so that you could get something to eat. Your attempt at trying to sneak away with an entire bag of Doritos was extremely brave, I will give you that. However, I will never be so distracted that I would allow you to eat a bag of chips for lunch instead of the food I spent 2 hours preparing. Nice try, but no dice.

3. You do not need half a roll of toilet paper to wipe your butts. I know that 5 people can demolish a roll of toilet paper in no time flat, this is why we buy it in bulk from Costco. I have a hard time believing though that you've peed enough to go through 2 rolls in a 12 hour span of time. There are two possible options here, either a) someone has a serious bladder infection and needs to see a doctor or b) someone just keeps rollin, rollin, rollin, when they use the potty. Since no one has complained about a burning sensation and based on the fact that I had to plunge it twice in one day... I'm thinking it's B. Please refrain from wiping your behinds with enough paper to make a quilt going forward. With the snowmageddon on the horizon, it would be a crying shame if you had to use your hands while we wait for the plows to come dig us back out again. We all know that could take a couple of days and mom will not be braving the snow drifts and black ice simply because someone decided they needed it to feel extra fluffy when they wipe.

In closing my dearest children, know that I love you all, I would not trade you for the world, and all complaints should be forwarded to dad...

Sincerely,

Mom

On Second Thought...

I'm a huge number cruncher. The better part of a decade as a single mom has basically left me as a paranoid mess when payday rolls around. From the moment those hard earned dollars hit my account, me and my calculator end up conjoined twins for the next 48 hours. I pull up all the bills (I love e-bill) and start punching away at the numbers. I figure out what's due, what gets paid, and what can wait. If I'm being honest, I typically start this process the night before and then start it all over again once I've confirmed the actual deposit amount.

Last night after tucking Lena in, I started on my usual pre-payday rant. Normally, James just sits there quietly and plays his games, because he knows that in the end, I've already planned it all out and there's not much input he needs to make. When he first moved in last year, it was certainly a surprise quirk of mine that took a little getting used to. But once the bills are paid, I don't say a word about how he spends the remaining money, so it's not really that big of deal for him.

Last night however, as I ran through the rather long list, his whole face sorta just fell. He could see his pay check sailing away before it was ever in the bank. On top of the regulars, Lena needs a hair cut, we need to get Paige a birthday present, and we have to pick up our contribution to family birthday dinner for next weekend. That alone is no small order with the entire small country of family members that I come with. 

Today, on lunch, as I sat typing out the penny for penny play by play via text, I stopped myself. I erased the whole thing that had taken me a good 10 minutes to punch in and just typed, we'll figure it out when we get home instead. I recalled the sad and forlorn look on his face last night and prevented myself from letting my financial OCD ruin a day that's been going good for him so far. I still feel the twinge to hammer out the details, but for now I'll do him a favor and control my bad habit.