My children love to help…with everything…with anything.
Well, except for cleaning up their own toys, but I’m pretty sure that’s normal.
Helping makes them feel good. It makes them feel….important.
Sometimes they are actually helpful, but most times, it just makes things….harder.
They WANT to help with the dishes.
They WANT to help with the laundry.
They WANT to help sweep the floors.
They WANT to help with the cooking.
But as any mom with a 2 or 3 year old knows, when they help…
Dishes get broken.
Laundry has to be RE-folded.
Floors have to be swept again.
Food gets spilled.
And so on.
In short, it takes more time. More time than it takes for me to do it myself. And time is not something I always have a lot of. If I’m doing housework, it’s usually in a hurry.
Not to mention I like it done a certain way. My way.
But I’m learning to be patient.
Well, I’m trying to learn to be patient.
Because I do NOT want lazy kids who become lazy adults.
I DO believe caring for the home should be a family effort.
I DO believe the responsibility learned from helping at home is just as important as any thing else they will learn here.
And one day, each of my girls is going to grow up and run her own home.
I don’t want her to fall apart in tears the first time she tries to make scrambled eggs for her husband because she doesn’t really know how.
…..like I did.
I want my girls to be prepared, and it’s my job to teach them. Starting now. This may be one of the most important parts of their “home education.”
So, I’m working on it. Little by little, I’m loosening up. Learning that it doesn’t always have to be done my way. That it’s worth a little messiness and an extra 10 minutes. If it means my girls are learning something….or even if they’re just making memories, it’s worth it.
They wanted to help with the dishes so bad this morning, but I refused because I was in a hurry. It would take too long.
Thankfully, God revealed this lesson to me in the shower. (Isn’t that where He speaks to you?!) So when my oldest asked to help me change the sheets on my bed and make it, I let her. It may have taken a little longer, but it made her happy. Proud even. Not the bad kind of pride, but the sense of pride found in a job well done. The sense of pride found in helping out and being a part of the household.
It’s important to them. It’s important for them. It needs to be important to me.
Important enough to take the time….
….and be patient.
I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, entreat you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing forbearance to one another in love. ~ Ephesians 4:1-2
(On a side note, it was NOT entirely my mother’s fault that I didn’t know how to scramble eggs. She tried to teach me to cook. I just wouldn’t stay in the kitchen. Love you, mom!)
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