SISTER, YOU AIN’T SEEN NOTHIN’ YET
© 2003 by Bryan W.Fields
My youngest sister, who lives in Alaska, is about to have her second baby. So far, she’s done pretty well with the first one—maybe even starting to think it’s easy. As her big brother and a father of five, however, I feel duty bound to educate her on the finer points of raising truckloads of children.
Dear Sister,
The most important rule to remember is that it’s not an addition problem; it’s multiplication, specifically, exponents. When you have two kids, your workload does not double; it squares. For example, four loads of laundry will now be sixteen. If you have three, it does not triple; it cubes, and so forth. Last week we did 1,024 loads of laundry. We got a threatening letter from the washing machines’ union and the lint trap in the dryer tried to bite me.
Laundry is only the tip of the iceberg. Applying this mathematical formula, you will have to pick up 400 toys per day by the time your second child is crawling. We have three boys at our house, which usually means about 8,000 Legos daily. Having two girls adds 1,521 Barbie shoes, none of which match because the mates are all down inside the couch somewhere.
We are still battling with our insurance company over writing the kitchen off as a tornado loss. It had to be a tornado; nothing else could do that kind of damage. Okay, maybe it wasn’t, like, a tornado tornado—but I’d swear I saw a bunch of Tasmanian Devils go through there at feeding time.
Bedrooms: It would really save you a lot of work in the long run if you can teach your children to clean their own rooms. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Excuse me while I go get some oxygen.
Bathrooms: This is our pet peeve, aside from the kitchen and the bedrooms and the living room. We bought our current home because 1) my mother-in-law was selling it and threatened not to move to California if we didn’t buy it, and 2) because it had two bathrooms.
When you finally get to the point in your married life where you can afford a home with two bathrooms, unless you have two kids or less, you will never really have a “master bathroom.” One of the cardinal rules of children is that one of them has to be in your bathroom at all times, usually because their own has been rendered unusable. To attempt to remedy this, I have posted a list of rules in my children’s bathroom:
1. You don’t have to wait until you reach voting age to flush the toilet.
2. Mildew is not an endangered species. Greenpeace will not sue us if you hang up your wet towels.
3. Despite evidence to the contrary, your dirty clothes will not crawl into the hamper without your assistance.
4. Toothpaste is for TEETH ONLY. It is not tile grout or Play-Doh.
5. Boys: NO SWORDFIGHTS. And RAISE THE SEAT.
6. Girls: Check the seat first. Your brothers don’t like you.
Finances: Unfortunately, you can probably apply the exponential formula here too. I used to not believe that was possible. I was not aware of what is known as the “Congressional model” of home economics. Were our household income to increase at the same rate as our expenses have, we would have an income somewhere in the neighborhood of the president’s tax cut proposal. Sending our fourteen-year-old to Boy Scout camp for one week this year will reduce our grocery bill by enough to replace the house. We are thinking of moving while he is gone.
Don’t get me wrong, little sister. We love our kids. We know you will love them, too, so don’t be surprised when three or more of them show up at your door next week. In addition, we’ll furnish you with a year’s supply of duct tape for whenever you need some quiet time. If there are any serious problems you can reach us by carrier pigeon at—
OMIGOSH! THE KITCHEN IS ON FIRE!
Just kidding. About the kitchen, I mean. You can reach us at:
7878 Grogflinga Swirfjalnfm
Fjsaigja, Gmxlvbasbbl 00000
No, really—we just want the kids to see Alaska. Call us when they’re grown.