youcan...

  I got this great idea from Dumb Mom over at                                                                                                       

   

    





It is the perfect gift to give my kids.  Instead of telling them for the "umpty-millionth" time, the "why" behind the outlandish things I say(request, suggest, offer, or command); of which they, themselves, ask to be informed.  I can tell you. My four readers.
        It is terrible to be 12.  The world revolves around you and the only people who don't know it are your family.  Especially your Mom.  Your @#$%&* Mom.
         Why do I need to bathe?  Or comb my hair?  Or study? Or dress for the weather? Or not get three outfits muddy on the same day in the same way after having been asked to please not do that?  Or pick up after myself?  Or help out around the house?  Or put things that belong to the whole family back in their designated spot(or general area)? Or keep track of my library books so that someone else is not continually paying for them?  Or my library card?  Or my schoolwork?  Or my shoes?  Or my winter coat?
        And this is where we come to the You can thank me later...  Why?  Because.
        Because you are not a princess with servants.  Let's just get this out of the way first.  Cinderella's hardworking muscular hands held those of Prince Charming and slipped on the ring.  Not her lazy, spoiled, poor-mouthing, selfish, lazy(oh, I already said that? It's good enough to go twice), greedy stepsisters.
        Because even though we live in a world that is continually selling us fun and leisure and indulgence, the truth is unless you know what effort and work and accomplishment are you can't understand the need for rest and relaxation and fun.
        Because I am your mom and I am responsible for about half of how you turn out.  I have messed up a lot of stuff.  But I will teach you to take good care of your home and your body and your business.  Your lack of desire to learn it doesn't take away my responsibility to teach.
       Because you do not have a staff of persons employed to peel your grapes. I like to do nice things for you, but when you treat me like it is nothing less than my job description, it sucks the joy out.
         Now I could go on, but I won't(you can thank me now).  The point is, one of these days you are totally going to thank me.  One of these days, the other gals in the dorm(because you are going to college) are going to want to know how to take a stain out of a blouse.  You will be there.  Your room mate will be having a man over for supper and not know how to cook.  You will be there.  When you have a home of your own, you will not only know how to manage your bills, you will by golly know where to find them to pay them.  And if it kills me, you will know it better than I did(do).  One of these days, you are going to have your child who has given your life joy and pride and meaning tell you she hates you.  And you will throw your head back and laugh.  And you will thank me.  For preparing you for anything life throws at you.  She will still have to do her chores.  So do you.

You can thank me later.