HomeLife,  Keiglets

a Monday kitchen fix.

What?

It was Monday?

I mean, do you ever feel as if you blink and then – I don’t know – a week goes by?

This morning when we left our home the kitchen legitimately looked as if a kitchen-sized hurricane had passed through.

We visited the grocery store for the first time in two weeks the night before and had simply carried in the bags and dropped them on the counter.  But not before we ran around gathering snacks and goodies to watch the final episode of The Great British Baking Show.

And then, blink, blink, it was time for bed and I forgot about the kitchen until I woke up and then it was time for chores and school and tutoring and errands and volunteering and then, blink, blink, we came back home and – oh, yes – the kitchen hurricane.

Ugh.  The kitchen.

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I actually said these words to my children.

(Grab a pen and paper, friends – you’re going to want to write this parenting genius down.  Have they developed a sarcasm font yet?)

I said (in an overly animated voice),

“You guys.  I am going to go into the bedroom.  I am going to set the timer for thirty minutes.  I am going to stay in the bedroom.  In those thirty minutes I would like you each to finish all of your chores, complete your copywork and do a fabulous and careful job of cleaning the living room and the kitchen.  At the end of thirty minutes I am going to come out my bedroom, refreshed and dancing, and I am going to look around.  When I see the great work you have accomplished, I am going to let you each have fifteen minutes of screen time.”

Guess what guys?

Those kids rejoiced and started running around like happy, crazy kids – cleaning and stuff. London even did an extra math lesson.  (I cannot account for that kind of magic.)

And you know what I did?

I went into the bedroom, set the timer (thought about setting it for forty minutes, but decided honesty was indeed the wisest choice), crawled under the cozy quilt and then I — read a novel!

(And – while I was reading this non-school, non-educational novel, I ate a creamy Cadbury egg given to me this week by hannaH!  Yep – it’s the early Easter season apparently.)

It was the best decision of my day, I’m sure of it.

After the shockingly quick thirty minutes went past, I kept my end of the promise – I danced through the cleaned rooms and rejoiced at the tidy work the kids had accomplished.  (Confession: I am a terrible dancer.)

The kids received their reward (during which time I researched an article I am working on) and I considered that a basically good trade.

Yeah, sure – I know it’s more behavior modification than hearts that desire to serve mom, but sometimes on a Monday afternoon when you find yourself staring down a kitchen hurricane, you gotta take what you can get.

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