Slave Labor & Selective Hearing Loss

One of the unexpected benefits of the economic slowdown (meltdown?) is that my over-privileged children are having to do a little work around here.

Not to say that we haven’t always expected certain chores of them. They do their own laundry, and clean their own rooms (yeah, right. What that means is that MOM DOESN’T.)

And, since I’m the one who cooks dinner every night, they’re the ones who clean up.

Other chores get assigned according to my McDonald’s system (first come, first served, and if they complain, they get the next five chores, absolutely FREE!).

We have been luckier than most people in this downturn. There’s no real chance that hubby will lose his job, since he’s self-employed.

But, since the market dropped to 1/3 of its previous value, wiping out our college funds just as another heads off on that magical adventure, a few things have changed around here. Most notably, a lot of the things that once were taken care of by experts in their fields are now being assigned to teenage boys.

I am not opposed to slave labor. I believe, firmly, that children should be introduced to the workforce at as early an age as possible, mostly so they’ll stop whining, “It’s not fair!”

So, my kids are now mowing the lawn, mulching the beds, replacing lost plants, and trimming hedges. (Dad didn’t have a problem with handing the Grouch a chain saw and sending him out to trim tree limbs. I almost had a heart attack. But he returned, all of his limbs intact, and the tree’s limbs in a neat pile.)

The only downside to all of this is that I find myself repeating more than usual.

Now, every mother knows about selective hearing loss. It is evinced by both children and husbands.

Husbands use it to avoid unexciting social engagements:

“You didn’t tell me that!”

“Of course I did. Last Tuesday, right after you commented on my new haircut, and before you read the stock market news and started screaming.”

“No, you didn’t. And I made arrangements to go to the basketball game with Joe.”

The children use it to make chores as painful for you as they are for them, hoping that you will eventually give up and do it yourself.

It’s almost passive-aggressive behavior. Not quite. But really close. (To TRULY appreciate passive-aggressive behavior, have a conversation with a college student about money).

The following is an actual transcript of a conversation I had with Stretch today, while he was supposed to be cleaning up their rec room.

Me: Get some paper towels, clean out the dog’s crate with Windex, then get the vacuum, vacuum the rug, and then run it around the baseboards. Then get all the furniture out, and we’ll wash the floor.

Ten minutes later:

Me: Did you clean out the dog’s crate?

Stretch: I couldn’t find the windex.

Ten minute later, he pushes the dog crate out of the way.

Me: Did you vacuum the rug?

Stretch: You didn’t tell me to vacuum the rug.

Ten minutes later:

Me: Did you vacuum the baseboards?

Stretch: Was I supposed to?

Ten minutes later:

Stretch: Okay, I’m ready to wash the floor.

Me: Then why is all the furniture still in the room?

An hour later, after the floor was washed:

Me: Okay, Stretch, now put the room back together.

Two hours later, I see the room, with the furniture still stacked in the hallway.

Sound familiar? I can’t tell you how many times I have ALMOST broken down and just done it myself.

With the Engineer, the whole process was so new, that he had me fooled. I took him to get his hearing tested. The examiner laughed, and said, “We call this ’selective hearing loss.’ It’s confined to the exact register of the mother’s voice.”

Hah, hah. Funny guy, I thought.

Not really believing, I took the Grouch to get his hearing tested, at about the same age. Same answer.

The Goth and Stretch could be stone-deaf for all I know. I’m not going to get laughed at again.

Send this to the person bothering you today!

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