Meanest Mummy in the World

The eternal cycle of work, chores and raising kids continues. Talk to any working mother and they will probably tell you about the constant struggle to find the right balance.

In a bid to simultaneously alleviate the load and teach a lesson about work ethics, I recently drew up a chores roster. There was pocket money involved. If they want something, apart from birthdays and Christmas, they can now earn it. The chores involved lawns (with a push mower), weeding, picking up leaves, dishes and lunches.

The first week started with great enthusiasm, as most things do. But two weeks in and Master Six had dropped out. After some fruitless persuasion I decided to let it go.

Master Nine, keen to make a buck, was quick off the mark: “So does this mean there’s spare money to be earned?” he asked. As a result, drying the dishes has been split between him and his sister.

So far Master Six has no idea about the value of money, or work.

“No one will want to marry you if you’re lazy,” I tried.

“I’m not getting married!” he declared. “Anyway, when I’m an adult, I’m living with you.”

This was news to me.

“But I’m not having an adult lazy sloth living with me! Plus, you’ll have to share a room with your sister because she already said she wants to stay living at home.” Miss Six has also declared her intention of remaining celibate and had already agreed to the terms.

“Yeah ‘cos I’m gonna play with my girl toys and pack them all away tidily,” she chimed in. “You know those toys I packed in my bag?” she added, referring to a bag of toys I found stashed in her cupboard ready for when she lives with me as an adult, which I have subsequently redistributed  obviously unnoticed by her.

“And also you’ll have to pay me money,” I continued. “When you’re an adult, you have to pay to live somewhere.”

“What?!” A shocked pause, then: “Ok, I’ll give you my $20,” he said, running off to his room.

“I don’t want your money now,” I called after him.

“Then I’ll give you my other money,” he said, coming back and handing me 20 cents.

“Why have you given me 20 cents now?” I asked.

“So then I don’t have to pay you when I’m an adult.”

“Yes you will.”

His mouth dropped open and he gaped at me like I was the meanest mummy in the world. 

Snatching back his 20 cents, he backed away, looking at me with hurt in his eyes.

 “You’re not my mummy anymore! I’m not living with you anymore!”

“Guess you’ll have to find a hard-working wife then.”

There’s no way I’m letting that happen. These holidays I’m taking the three of them into town so the other two can spend some of their earned money with the aim that Master Six will see the benefits and re-join the work force. 

Yes there will be ‘Mean Mummy Syndrome’ guilt pangs but I will make a hard worker out of Master Six yet. 

And FYI, he’d forgiven me the next day and I’m back to being his ‘favouritest Mummy in the world’ … until the impending shopping trip no doubt.