One thing I always loved about growing up in a large family is the division of chores. Well, not really. After all what kid likes chores? Shouldn’t every waking hour be devoted to games like tag, hide and seek and dodge ball? Playing on the Carpenter playground was all I wanted to do. Chores were an unwelcomed interruption of my day.
Still, things had to be done. There were six kids, and my mom worked, so the division of labor was essential for our home to run with some modicum of order.
Of course, my brothers got the fun jobs, like taking out the trash, and stuff like that.
My sister and I were relegated to doing the dishes, so we played a game as we rinsed the utensils, making the forks and knives pair off before they’d dive off the water faucet into the soapy water below. Spoons were neglected, kinda like the girl who was never asked to dance.
As time progressed, we eventually got a dishwasher, so the water dance was abbreviated into a quick rinse beneath the faucet.
I always liked watering the side yard with the hose. There, I could daydream to my hearts content, until I noticed there was a big mud puddle from the water slopping into the dirt. Time to re-direct my aim into the other thirsty plants.
Raking was also fun, although the mulberries from the backyard always got all over my shoes, and invariably, I’d forget to wipe my feet, trailing in a nice burgundy mess into the living room. We also had a huge olive tree out front, so between both of these stains, I’m sure our living room ended up looking like the coat on one of those dogs in 101 Dalmatians.
Sometimes Teresa and I got to mow the lawn as well, which made me wonder where my brothers were with all these chore divisions. Did they repair pipes or replace the roof? Did they rebuild the car? They were probably just being boys, with the rest of us females stuck at home doing all the dirty work.
Why don’t guys do their chores? You’d think it would make them better prepared to tackle the working world. Instead, I think it makes them assume women will pick up the slack, their clothes, and the other messes they make.
My mom had a chart on the inside of one of the cupboards, delineating the tasks for each of us to perform. I think she placed a check mark if the task was completed. I seem to remember that many of my brothers' checks were absent on this sheet.
It seems boys were always given more latitude when it came to participating in domestic duties.
My sister Lynn cooked upon occasion, but she wasn’t very good at it, from the hamburger tartare we were served one evening. But, I attribute that to her being a teenager and wanting a bit of a social life, not to her lack of cooking skills. Actually she’s a pretty good cook.
Chores are bores, but hey, somebody’s gotta do them. My mom was tired from being on her feet all day, and although I resented the childhood labor, in retrospect, I was glad I was able to help.
