So I thought I could outwait them....

How can a child his age have such a proper side-eye game?? I don't get it!! He is truly lookin' at me like I'm outside my right mind!!

For those who don't know, when my mom died I inherited my Dad. Shortly thereafter, my brother's 3rd wife returned him (he wasn't a good fit, made her as* look fat or sumthin'). So, to paraphrase Robert Frost, he had to come home, and I had to take him in... you'd have to have known my mom to understand, really, why I still feel so obligated to her problem children.

But I digress... this isn't supposta be about my codependent tendencies (yeah, I see it, and I said it).

This is about a power struggle. A waiting game. A showdown. Me v.s. Them. A contest of wills.

I entered into said contest certain in my victory. This week, I have surrendered. I give. I just can't anymore.

I freely admit, my dad and my brother are far better at living in a pig-sty than I am.

It started because I was sick of cleaning up after their raggely as*es. I was done. I was fed up, exasperated, infuriated and exhausted... My plan was simple. Fuggetaboutem!! Let them get a taste of a house where no one cleans up after them. Let them see how bad it can get without me following behind them like their mama did. I was sure I would win.

BUT NOOOOOOOOOO....

At first, they didn't even seem to notice the layer of dust and the cobwebs. I think they did begin to notice the lack of clean dishes. They bought paper plates. But since clean dishes and a clean kitchen are necessary for my personal happiness, I soon exempted the kitchen from my strike.

I then thought the ring in the bathtub and the toilet would make an impression. Again I was wrong. And again, I found a clean bathroom was necessary for my personal happiness. So I exempted the upstairs bathroom from my strike.

Do you see the pattern here? None of it mattered to them. It could have fallen down around them before they would have lifted a finger. They were set in their way.

But then my son jerked me into reality.

"Mom, I'll help you if you feel like cleaning the house. It's kinda nasty."

Ouch.

So I explained to him that I was tired of cleaning up after people and was only cleaning up my own messes (and his) from now on. Do you know what he said?

My sweet, beautiful, almost 7 year-old son looked at me, threw back his head, and said......

"BWAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! You're gonna wait a long time for THEM to help you!! But I know how to dust if you want me to...."

He then shook his head at me and chuckled for another good five minutes... like I'm ridiculous or something.

So Eli and I are cleaning the house. Coz WE like it clean...

Have I mentioned lately I love my kid?