Saturday, November 13, 2010

Poop...

Otherwise titled, the things that make me swear.  My house is, by no means, the cleanest place on the planet.  I will be the first to admit that I don't get down on my hands and knees and scrub the floor, the playroom is never picked up, the sink normally has dishes in it, and the kids rooms can get to be pretty much a disaster.  When I decide to clean (which happens about every second or third weekend) it becomes something that needs total focus for about 4 hours.  I start on the bottom level, and work my way to the top.  I know this seems backwards, but the top is the area that normally requires the most effort (where our bedrooms and main bathroom are) and if I started up there I'd get so worn out that I'd never get the other two levels done.

Normally on Saturday, Cory will get up with the kids and let me sleep in for a couple hours.  He has back problems, and after being in bed all night his back won't allow him to lay down anymore and he'll need to get up.  He'll normally get breakfast done, and then have the kids downstairs in the playroom when I finally roll out of bed about nine.  Last night, he had a really hard time going to sleep and was up until a little after 4:00, so when Phillip got up at 6:30, I was planning on getting up with him.  Cory got up and took him downstairs to the playroom, and then came back to bed.  I laid there for about half an hour, but couldn't go back to sleep, so I decided to get up and get an early start on cleaning house.  I got the downstairs level done (bathroom, spare bedroom, playroom) while Phillip was eating breakfast.  I noticed that it seemed he couldn't get enough food or water.  He goes through phases where he eats like he hasn't eaten in days.  He ate about three and a half bowls of cereal and had two full glasses of water.  When he was done, I took him downstairs to play and focused on the center level (kitchen and living room).  I then went upstairs and did the upstairs bathroom.  I was bringing the rags and cleaning stuff back downstairs, and I noticed a distinct odor coming up from the downstairs playroom.  He had messed his diaper.  I finished putting stuff away, and took him upstairs to change him.

I decided, since it was Saturday and about time for him to go for his weekly Mae Mae time, that I would save time and just get him ready while I was changing his diaper.  I changed him (a pretty full diaper) and got him dressed.  I took him from his room to the bathroom to do his hair and brush his teeth, and (just as I do every single morning) threw his diaper down to the bottom of the stairs.  I do not think this is something I will be doing again.  I heard this sickening thud/splat, and looked down to see his disgusting dirty diaper exploded all over my newly cleaned living room floor.  I'm normally pretty good at holding my tongue, but there didn't seem to be a better word for me to say...  "F***"!!!"  Luckily, Phillip is not talking yet, although I wouldn't be at all surprised if one of his first words is a dirty one.  And for the first time since us moving in to this house, I did get down on my hands and knees and scrubbed the floor.  How's that for model parenting?

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Life is tough, get a helmet


Apparently, this is a lesson I failed to learn when I was growing up.  I grew up believing that people were good (for the most part) and that life was fair.  My dad worked very hard, my mom worked very hard, they expected us to work just as hard.  We had our responsibilities around the house, we spent a good portion of our summer mornings out in the garden helping weed and take care of the food we would grow, it was very rare that we ever got something we either didn’t need or didn’t earn ourselves.  All of us had jobs as soon as we were old enough, and my parents taught us by example the importance of earning, saving, and budgeting our money.  We learned to not do the minimum required when it came to a task, but to do the absolute best we were able to do, and to take pride in a job well done.
I remember quite a few times in school being amazed at the students who would either flat-out refuse to do a job, or would cheat so they wouldn’t have to do it but would still get credit for it.  I watched these students fail, I watched a few of them get expelled, and I was sure that life would catch up with them and they would not make it far.     
Then, as I became a young adult, it became my responsibility to hire and supervise the younger staff at a few establishments I worked for.  Once again, I was amazed at the attitude some of the employees had.  They had this “I’m doing you a favor by working here, so you better let me sit here and do nothing or I’ll quit!” attitude.  It drove me nuts.  I heard quite a few of them complain that the job was “too hard” or “you don’t pay me enough to make me do this.”  Again, I saw the inability to work hard catch up to them, and most of them didn’t last very long.  I began to understand my managers desire to take care of the employees who did a good job, because it was hard to find employees who are willing to do the work required of the job. 
Now that I am in the “real world” I am seeing that there is no real punishment for people who do not know the importance of working hard.  People get promoted simply because they have been at a job for a specified length of time, even though people who are more qualified and deserving of the jobs are being overlooked.  Whole companies are punished by ridiculous rules because employers put them in place instead of punishing the one or two people who are taking advantage of the situation.  “You set your rules for your worst employee, not your best” has become the standard in today’s world.  People think they are owed something, simply for existing.  They don’t work for anything anymore, and the people who do work are doing the bare minimum to squeak by. 
So what happens when people grow up and become adults without learning the lessons they were supposed to learn as children?  Things like sharing, good sportsmanship, honesty, playing nice with others, taking turns.  What happens when the parents fail to teach them, or even worse, what happens when they teach them it’s ok to act like a spoiled little snot and expect the world to cater to them?  How are these people ever going to learn? 
I recommend an “adult reprogramming facility”, kind of like a combination between a 72 hour psych hold and prison.  Something that you are sentenced to when you are caught behaving like an adult three year old, where you are required to go through playtime therapy, individual therapy, and lectures on how to become a functioning member of society.  Heck, I even know some six and seven year olds who could be brought in as “peer tutors” because they behave better than some of the adults out there.  Even better, let’s require a certificate of completion the way we require a diploma when applying for a job.  If you fail, you are stuck in the program forever.  And this is only if my “drivers ed” type class and licensing program to be able to use your reproductive organs doesn’t fly.  Bottom line, something needs to be done.  I’m beginning to understand why people have to be on medication just to be able to remain sane in today’s society.  Pass the happy pills, please.