Everybody Contributes. Willingly.

So I need to come clean about something, especially in light of the Pinterest Post from the other day.

Yesterday I posted this picture on my Facebook page:

Now, luckily, most of my 391 friends know that I tend to be slightly sarcastic.  Sometimes.  

I did not post the photo so that people would think, "wow, what a great mother!  Her children are helping to clean the house they all live in, out of the goodness of their sweet little hearts.  What a marvelous way to teach them discipline, responsibility, and cooperation!"

If you thought that, please stop reading . . . NOW.

Otherwise, let me do some ‘splaining.

I bribed the boys with my marble system, which I stole from Disney’s Family Fun Magazine.

• I told Large he could earn 5 whole marbles (!!!) if he vacuumed the family room floor.  The reason I needed the floor vacuumed, aside from the fact that we have white carpet in a house full of boy-dirt, is because the dog had peed on it.  Can’t use the steam cleaner until I vacuum up the loose dirt.

          Ask me if I’ve steam-cleaned yet.

• Medium played in the sandbox on the deck and needed approximately 10 cups of water for his sand creation.  I’m not talking 10 “cups” of water.  I’m talking 10 plastic ballpark cups.  Since he could only carry two full cups of water at a time, he made several trips.  With every trip, more and more sand magically appeared inside my house.  I told Medium he needed to sweep the floor.  Notice there is no dustpan in sight.  Nope, we’re just moving the sand around from one location to the next.

• Small just likes to push things . . . his little lawnmower, his ride-on car, his stroller, (my buttons.)  etc.  Lightbulb!  Let him push the swiffer around for a bit.  He doesn’t actually clean anything, but it makes him feel important.

The children completed their designated chores while I prepared a healthy, nutritious meal that they did not eat, and they earned marbles, which will eventually turn into $10 which they will spend on dollar-store plastic things that I will throw away the next day.   Everybody wins!

Dust Catchers! Yours for Only $1!

For Christmas this year, my brother-in-law, The Cluer, bought $5 gift certificates to the Dollar Tree for my boys.  He thinks he’s funny.  He is not.

You see, I’m not a Dollar Tree kind of gal.  There’s nothing wrong with the Dollar Tree or other establishments of that ilk, and I will concede that there are bargains to be found.  When the boys step foot in there, however, their eyes get all big and buggy and they start running in circles like they’re on Speed because Look! There’s a pack of spatulas for a dollar!  We don't know what spatulas are!  But they're a dollar!

Several months ago, The Cluer took my boys and his into a dollar store and let them each pick something out while BooBoo and I settled the tab at the restaurant next door.  The boys got into the car all excited about their finds and we waved good-bye to the cousins.  Everybody buckled in and I started the engine.  All was right with the world.

And then all hell broke loose.

Whoppers exploded out of the box Large was trying to open and they began rolling all over the floor of my Swagger Wagon, and Medium started screaming because his quality-inspected plastic toy broke.  The car was still in "park," folks. 

Ever reserved and mature, I called The Cluer immediately.  “I’m still in PARK, you dumb*ass!  There are Whoppers EVERYwhere and Medium is throwing a temper tantrum because his toy doesn’t even work!  I haven’t even put the car in reverse!  This is YOUR fault!”

So I KNEW The Cluer would be purchasing gift certificates for the boys because he and I pick at each other like 10-year-old siblings.  Yesterday, Hubby took the boys out to run some errands and then promised them they could go spend their gift certificates afterwards.  Now we are the proud owners of these little gems:

God Bless America

1. a pack of Justin Bieber cards.  Medium’s comment was “the girls in my class are gonna LOVE this!”  I'm starting to get a little concerned with this new obsession with the Biebster.
2. a football sticker book and 3 packs of cards.  We would have had 4 packs of cards, but then Large spotted the following . .  . 
3. Eagle Dust Catchers.  Medium found them first, and Large’s response was, “Awwww, where’d you get THAT?  I want THAT!”  And thus, one pack of cards went back on the shelf.
4. Four giant army men, one of whom has apparently already been harmed in battle.  I would attempt to operate on his leg, but we all know what happened during the Great Superhero Convalescent Home Superglue Disaster of 2007. 

I despise Dust-Catchers.  I know many people collect Precious Moments and the like, but I am NOT one of those people.  If it doesn’t have some sort of sentimental meaning to me, I don’t want it.  I don’t even like trophies.  Why?  Because they serve no lasting purpose except to collect dust.  My only exception to this rule is a Willow Tree figurine my Mother-in-Law gave me when Medium was born – it’s a mother with two boys and I think it’s the sweetest thing ever. 

How long before those eagles “mysteriously” disappear?