Something weird is happening at my house. (Yeah...that's nothing new.) I started a new job a few weeks ago. I love it. I have a reason to get out of my pajamas now. Which, ya know, after almost five years, is a reason to celebrate. I get up earlier, I try to do all the things I was doing before, I just have about 30 less hours in the week with which I can do them. So, I budget my time and I have still found a way to manage to make cold lunches, get laundry done, keep the house clean, make decent dinners, etc.
I won't lie. This was a major concern of mine. With John out of town more often than not, it's up to me to get everything taken care of. These kids of mine.....they're busy. I had a lot of anxiety before I started the job. I worried I would forget things. I was afraid I would come up short and be unable to juggle every one's obligations.
We are living by the calender. Everything that anyone may be planning to do has to go on the calender, or I won't be able to keep track of it. I remind everyone a hundred times a day of what is on the calender. What they are doing, what *I* am doing, when I will be here, when they will be here or there. Much to my delight and surprise...we're doing fine.
Except for this one thing.....I find myself constantly reminding them all to HURRY UP!!! Specifically, this seems to be a problem for Zoe. A really, really big problem. Like...there have been three days this week that her bath has lasted 45 minutes or more. I've begged. I've snapped and yelled. I've gone back to the days of doing all the work of giving her the bath while she sat and thought about whatever a seven year old girl thinks of while her mother dumps a cup of water over her soapy hair and steam rolls out of the mother's ears. I say, "Hurry." She hears, "Please, my Love, slow down, take your time. Ease into your school day and by all means, ignore your harpy of a mother." It simply does not register with her that she needs to keep moving. She's on her own time, Man, stop with all the cramping of her style. It's how she rolls. VERY VERY slowly. So it would get to a critical point, and I would yell, and she would cry. Ffffoooorrrreeevvveeeerrr. Then I would have to spend another precious ten minutes, at least, hugging her and apologizing and explaining. All the while keeping one eye on the clock, because, DUDE! We are never getting out of this house on time EVER EVER EVER again.
But....this morning. This glorious morning. The light bulb went off.
She was in the bath. I was nearly on my knees, begging her to move the process along because she had to eat breakfast, get her hair dried and styled and get her little self to Sunday school. I was THISCLOSE to biting her pretty little head right off when...I thought, "I'm totally going to buy her off."
So, I did.
The deal was, I would set the timer on my phone. If she got rinsed, dried off, out of the bathtub and dressed in 15 minutes, I'd give her fifty cents.
She totally did it.
So....I did it again at breakfast. With her, a Pop Tart and a glass of milk can last up to half an hour. I gave her another 15 minutes. And another fifty cents.
We made it to Sunday school in plenty of time. She even had enough time left to study spelling words and do a few flash cards for Math. It was the first morning in a very long time that I didn't feel even a little like throttling my sweet little girl.
She's made $1.75 today. She's planning on using it to buy things for the animals at the Pet Rescue in Wahoo.
Some may call this bribery. I'm choosing to call it The Mommy-Abramo-On-Time-Incentive-Plan. I'm going to be broke by the time she is able to grasp the concept of time management. But it's so worth it. What I save in blood pressure medicines, I'm giving to lost pets. My purse is lighter, but my child is happier.
And this, my friends, is how I plan to win parenting. With quarters. (or dimes and nickels...whatever.)
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