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Because You Live Here, That’s Why: Kids and the Battle of Chores
I crafted a plan. I felt prepared. I started with the basics when he started walking and talking. My voice sounded cheery and I easily herded the little man into my camp. “Can you please put Finding Nemo back in the movie cupboard?” “Where does your stuffed orca go? No… not there, silly.” “You want to clean the kitchen with mommy? Sure!” Chore time with one toddler felt easy because he actually wanted to help. And the jobs were like him—short and sweet. Then we moved to Baja, birthed another baby and adjusted to living in the land of dust and mud. The harder chores required more direction, but my…
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Her Jewelry, My Truck
I’m sure she had a kind smile, but her jewelry is what caught my eye. Not because it sparkled more than her face, just that it was extensive. Maybe not for those of us who visited from middle-class SoCal, but for a missionary woman in Mexico? Extensive. Back in the ‘80s, every missionary lady who came to my little Baptist church resembled Plain Jane. Makeup rarely existed, unadulterated hair sat in perfect pins, and their outfits always looked… tired. My tomboyish wardrobe did not include more than a dress or two, but it seemed to me they could have at least worn something besides gunnysacks if they wanted to recruit…
