<\/span>Working with Mom<\/span><\/b>
I had my first official job, the kind with a time card, scheduled work hours, and a very nearly ugly uniform at age fourteen, mainly because that was the legal driving and working age in Idaho during the late 1980\u2019s. And since I had myself a car, I needed myself a job. But prior to my teenage employment endeavors, I worked at home. Ya see, kid sitters were a luxury that my single-parent mom could not afford so mile-long chore lists (plus peanut butter-n-honey sandwiches and daily episodes of \u201cLittle House on the Prairie\u201d) went a long way to teach me and my younger sister the values of work.<\/span><\/b>
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<\/a><\/span>Bring in firewood. Mop the kitchen floor. Clean the basement bathroom toilet. Scrub the master bathroom tub. Vacuum the downstairs bedrooms. Dust the dining room. Gather the eggs. Feed the dog. Peel some potatoes. And do your homework.<\/span>
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And our summertime list looked similar, but included additional outdoor things. <\/span>Rake the lawn. Snap the beans. Pick the peas. Pull weeds in the first 2 rows. Set out the sun tea. Clean the camper. Pack the camper for the weekend. Water the lawn. And watch only one soap opera.<\/span>
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We were country folk so for my mom\u2019s lunch break she rushed home from her office job to check on us kids. With the drive out she only had fifteen minutes to spare before she had to leave again; she came inside, made sure we were in one piece, used the bathroom, wolfed down some lunch, and drove back to town. <\/span>
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On hot days especially, my little sis and I powered through our chores so that we would be free to hitch a ride and spend the rest of the afternoon back in town at the city beach. We frolicked about whilst my mom served her remaining four hours behind a typewriter and telephone. We girls loved this reward of freedom and fun with our town friends. The city beach was scattered with lifeguards and we always hung out in the same spot, near the snack hut. Those were mom\u2019s rules. We slathered on sunscreen, swam out to the log barrier, lay facedown on towels, and feigned anger when boys stirred up hot sand as they traipsed by. Of course we had to be back at mom\u2019s office no later than five o\u2019clock or we had to hoof it home.<\/span>
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But some days, even after we did our listed chores, plus some extra ones for bribery, err, good measure, my mom simply said, \u201cNo, not today girls.\u201d We generally sulked off, but only for a minute because there was nothin\u2019 like a bonus chore list and a \u201cLittle House on the Prairie\u201d ban to cure us of puckered lips and bad attitudes. On those sweltering days we improvised with a blue plastic kiddy pool, lawn chairs, and free snacks outta the fridge. Not so bad.<\/span>
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I don\u2019t recall ever thinking that my mom was a bad mom or that we girls missed out on any after school or summertime magical mothering dust, but that changed during a college Educational Psychology class. Boy-howdy, I got me some learnin\u2019 that day. According to the lady professor, <\/span>latchkey<\/span> kids (it was a brand-spanking new term for me) could and would contribute nothing more to society than an increase in the number of hardcore criminal jailbird punks. After all, what could such a Neanderthal-esque, despicable, parentless environment create? <\/span>
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Huh?<\/span> My teeth rattled loud and with a hard <\/span>thunk!<\/span> my lower jaw hit the ginormous text book on my lap. I turned to the gal next to me, an athlete I knew because I was the student athletic trainer assigned to the men\u2019s and women\u2019s track team that year, and said, \u201cWow. I just learned something new about myself today. I better call my sister when I get home and see if she\u2019s been tossed in the clink yet. Maybe I\u2019ll see her there because it sounds like I\u2019m surely on my way.\u201d<\/span>
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\u201cUh, yeah, me too. Save me a spot,\u201d said my trackster friend, \u201cbut I\u2019m going to call my dad and ask him what he thinks about that lady calling his parenting skills despicable.\u201d<\/span>
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\u201cI\u2019m not gonna ask my mom that \u2018cause she\u2019ll come straight through the phone and whoop my butt,\u201d I said.<\/span>
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For the rest of the hour we ignored the professor and carried on our own latchkey kid conversation in the lecture hall shadows \u2013 we discussed our supposedly horrid, yet very similar, upbringings. We each had chore lists, lived in the country, came home to parentless houses, and supervised younger siblings; but, we also earned good grades, excelled in high school sports, were the first generation in our families to attend a university, and were involved in collegiate athletic endeavors of our choosing. On top of that, we were putting ourselves through college and also hoped to be future teachers, not just to kids in a brick and mortar building, but also to our own flesh and blood variety.<\/span>
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We agreed that the lady psych professor was a bit off her nut on the whole latchkey kid scene and that we would raise our own kids much like our parents had raised us, chore lists and all.<\/span>
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My first <\/span>un<\/span>official job taught me lots o\u2019 stuff, besides the fact that mom\u2019s the boss:<\/span>
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- Hard work keeps a person fit.<\/span><\/b><\/li>\n
- Whining doesn\u2019t help one single bit.<\/span><\/b><\/li>\n
- Weeds are always gonna be a part of life.<\/span><\/b><\/li>\n
- Working hands are usually too busy to find trouble.<\/span><\/b><\/li>\n
- We don\u2019t always get what we want, even when we give it our all.<\/span><\/b><\/li>\n
- As soon as a person gets their work done, they generally are free to have fun.<\/span><\/b><\/li>\n
- And last, but not least, my mom\u2019s chore lists didn\u2019t turn me (or my sister for that matter) into some crazed, striped-pajama wearin\u2019 jailbird; rather, they turned me into a determined, strong-willed, get \u2018er done sorta daughter.<\/span><\/b><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n
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<\/span>Do you wanna know something? I didn\u2019t get paid a single red cent for a day of my at-home, <\/span>un<\/span>official first job, but I wouldn\u2019t trade a bit of it for any wage you could offer me today.<\/span>
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Thanks mom.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n\nSo how about you? For the next couple of weeks I\u2019ll be highlighting voices from around the world, reflecting on what you learned at your first job. Send me a note\u00a0here<\/a>\u00a0and join in!\u00a0<\/i><\/span>Click\u00a0here<\/a>\u00a0to subscribe and not miss a single post. The Archive is\u00a0here.<\/a><\/span><\/i> <\/div>\n - Whining doesn\u2019t help one single bit.<\/span><\/b><\/li>\n
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