Yay Mom and Dad! (or What Too Much Work Taught Me)

It has been suggested that I was abused at times as a child, and on a few occurences, I'm pretty sure those observations are probably correct.  However, the one thing that I really resented as a child that I have decided will be done to my OWN child, was work.  Lots and lots and LOTS of work.

I would be given a list that could take as long as 8 or 10 hours to do on a Saturday if you factored in a good half hour of adolescent complaining and poor organizational skills.  I would look at that mountain of work and WHINE... and complain, and cry...

It wasn't FAIR.  I knew that other people's teenagers were NOT told to go dig ditches -- I was almost certain of it.  Yes, they might have to be occasionally mowing yards, too, but their crazy parents didn't expect three or four acres of mowing, most of them lived in town on city lots!  Why did I have to do that AND still keep up with my chores for that week, which happened to be laundry (including bedding) for a family of five?  Didn't I deserve a life, too?

Note:  my step-mother did not do any housework or yardwork.  The only contribution to work around our house was the weekly grocery shopping, and we were the ones who carried it in.  Everything was divided between the daughters.  If we had checkbooks and driver's licenses, I sometimes wonder if maybe that would have been given to us to do, too.

I learned to work, and work hard.  When I went to my first job, my father sat me down in our living room and said, "You are getting this job because of MY reputation and the fact that the owner knows ME.   You will always arrive fifteen minutes early, you will take no breaks unless directed to, and you will never leave until you are dismissed, no matter how late that might make you."  I understood him perfectly and did exactly as he told me to.

K is amazed at what I will accomplish in a few hours.  I learned that if I wanted any time for ME I had to multi-task and work hard.  Otherwise it would be supper time on a Saturday before I could even look up and think about what I wanted for myself that day, and in the winter, that would mean nothing but watching my sisters watch television, because it was dark out already.  Every morning when I get up now, there is a list going in my head of what I am getting done, and how I will put all the work together to finish multiple tasks at the same time.  Washers and dryers can work on laundry while I clean house or move stuff.  Floors can dry while I'm Gathering or working on a new short story.  Everything has its beginning and end, overlapping, so I can expect at least a few minutes of "me" time in a given day.

I hated every minute of those lessons, but they taught me well.  As I've watched my son dawdle, complain and loaf when assigned tasks, I've realized a sad truth:

That boy needs a whole lot more work...