I hope I didn’t steer you too wrong with that title. We all want to make a little extra money, don’t we? But there’s that “if only” tacked onto it. Whatever could she mean by THAT?
Well, every week, I look around my house and the disaster that it’s become, and I listen to my kids complain and I (God forbid) get in an argument with the threenagers about how I’m supposed to be cooking the chicken tonight, and I start fantasizing about all the extra money that parents could make, if only. Here are a few of my fantasies:
1. If I had a dollar for every time the 3-year-olds argued with me about whether it’s nap time or not, I’d be rich.
(Them: I don’t take a nap until two firty!
Me: How do you know it’s not three thirty?
Them: It’s not.
Me: But how do you know?
Them: IT’S NOT!
Me: You can’t tell time.
Them:
Me: Get in your beds.
Them: But we don’t take a nap until two firty!
Just press repeat on the above.)
2. If I had a dollar for every time my kids left the living room looking like a LEGO minefield, I’d be rich.
(Well, at least I can’t see what the 18-month-old did to the carpet today.)
3. If I had a dollar for every time my kids got an ounce of water outside the tub, I’d be rich.
(I’ll just mop the floor while I’m at it.)
4. If I had a dollar for every time my kids lost their shoes, I’d be rich.
(And if I got a dollar for every time they told me they’d already looked, when clearly they had not, I’d be even richer.)
5. If I had a dollar for every time my kids complained about their chores, I’d be rich.
(Especially the sweeping.)
6. If I had a dollar for every time my kids “accidentally” plugged up the toilet with a toy or, maybe, way too much toilet paper, or just because it’s one of their superior talents, I’d be rich.
(Some of the most frequent words in my house:
Them: Mama, the toilet is overflowing.
Me: Then use the other one.
Them: That one’s overflowing, too.
Me: Well, you’re not using mine. I guess you’ll have to figure out how to use the plunger.
Them: YES!
Me: On second thought, nope.)
7. If I had a dollar for every time my kids left something in my room, I’d be rich.
(Especially right after I’ve cleaned it. They like to leave reminders that they live here, I guess.)
8. If I had a dollar for every time my kids messed up the perfectly folded laundry piles to find sweat pants, I’d be rich.
(Or even a dollar for how many times we argued about how you shouldn’t wear sweat pants in two thousand degree weather.)
9. If I had a dollar for every time my kids argued with each other about who gets the green plate, I’d be rich.
(Boy 1: I’m the special boy. I get the green plate.
Boy 2: But I want to be the special boy! I want the green plate!
Boy 3: No, it’s my turn to be the special boy.
Boy 4: No! I get the green plate.
Boy 5: No, I do!
Boy 6: Aggle flaggle plaggle!
Me: YOU’RE ALL SPECIAL BOYS!)
10. If I had a dollar for every time my kids asked “Are we almost there?” while traveling, I’d be rich.
(Them: Are we almost there?
Me: Look at the clock. You just asked 5 minutes ago. I told you it would be another hour. Let’s use our logical brains. What do you think–are we almost there?
Them: Yes!)
11. If I had a dollar for every time my kids told me I was wrong, I’d be rich.
(Them: You’re not cutting that right, Mama.
Me: I’m pretty sure I’ve used scissors for at least two decades longer than you have.
Them: You should let me do it.
Me: And you also don’t know how to sew. I don’t have to cut in a straight line if I don’t want to. I sew in a straight line. Mostly.
Them: Just let me do it, Mama.
Me: GET AWAY FROM MY SCISSORS!)
12. If I had a dollar for every time my kids said they didn’t like this kind of dinner before they’ve even tasted it, I’d be rich.
(Them: EW. That’s the worst dinner ever.
Me: You haven’t even tasted it.
Them: I don’t have to.
Me: That’s just mean.
Them: It looks disgusting. And smells disgusting. And I bet it tastes disgusting, too.
Me: Next time you cook, then.
Them: Okay!
Me: No! I didn’t mean that!)
13. If I had a dollar for every time my kids stripped off their clothes and left them on the floor, I’d be rich.
Me: Why do you leave your clothes all over the floor? I’m not a maid.
Them: [shrug]
Me: Is is so hard to pick them up?
Them: [shrug]
Me: Them pick them up.
Them: Yes Mama.
(Just kidding. That’s not really how it plays out. That request usually has to be repeated at least four times before they even hear me. Husband says there’s something about the cadence of a woman’s voice that men scientifically can’t hear the first time around. I’m pretty sure that’s just an excuse.)
I don’t know about you, but I’d be able to pay for every one of my kids’ college educations if someone would just give me a dollar every time they did any one of the above.
One can always dream.
