Chacos: Why we love and hate the family chores
I ignored the heated dispute by pretending to be an overworked human resources executive and prayed the team would utilize the problem-solving skills I’ve been coaching them on for years. Soon I heard a door slam, a few zesty words that would make a kindergarten teacher blush, and the whirr of a lawn mower.
The other teenager dramatically dragged the vacuum out of the closet and then washed the sink’s dirty dishes as if teasing them to break. I wanted my children to negotiate this squabble on their own because we have a system in place that should be able to absorb disagreements without my immediate intervention. It’s a color-coded chore chart taped to our refrigerator door that streamlines workflow, boosts accountability, reduces decision-making bottlenecks, and has been successful because of its division of labor.
Our family cherishes this laminated chore chart the way some families revere the family bible or the television’s remote control on a Friday night. Once we thought our children were smart enough for some higher-order thinking, we put them to work pairing socks from the clean laundry. When we could be sure they wouldn’t get lost along the route, the kids walked the dog around the block after school.
Eventually, they learned to cook a meal and clean a kitchen because that was an easy way to score some points with parents who came home from work during the dinner hour. The structure and habit became an integral part of our family dynamics.
I guessed this sibling argument was about the oldest child home to visit for the weekend. She was lounging in the living room looking like she wanted someone to feed her grapes and fan her face. To her younger brothers, she was acting derelict with her duties even though she was unanimously voted out of chore chart rotation when she moved away.
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Soon after she left, the two remaining siblings became the chore chart’s newest authors and called a meeting to revise the existing division of duties. This working document was filled with messy arrows and little notes littering the margins.
I could easily anticipate a disaster waiting to happen. I wanted to provide constructive feedback because people in human resources always talk about creating a culture that promotes a growth mindset, but honestly, I only had one chapter left in the book I was reading so I kept my mouth shut.
Domestic responsibilities are routine and necessary tasks that help keep a dwelling organized. I grew up with my mother doing most of them alone on the weekends. She watered all the plants, ironed all the clothes, dusted all the shelves, and changed everyone’s bed sheets weekly without complaint. She also worked full-time outside our home and is alive today to tell the tale of her miraculous survival. I never appreciated all she did for our home nor understood why she insisted on doing most of it without enlisting her dependents.
In her words, my mother did all the household chores because she was taught that an impeccable home was a big part of what was supposed to define her as a woman. She took great pride in how her home looked and believed it was her responsibility to do it all by herself.
My mom would kick us kids outside to grind through her to-do list. Every now and again, my mom would explode in what I realize now was frustration, resentment, and exhaustion. This is how our home operated and I didn’t want to follow the same path of my mom’s worn-out footsteps when I grew up.
I became a competent young adult by taking a long and windy route. I shrunk too many sweaters to count and I once mixed bleach with something that made my eyeballs burn for days. I thought replacing dishwasher detergent with dishwashing liquid wasn’t a thing until I had three inches of suds all over the kitchen floor. At once I appreciated the demands of running a home with three children and vowed that no individual should have to carry the burden alone.
When our oldest came home for the weekend, her brothers assumed a former member of their team would automatically pitch in to help because they grew up with the mantra that many hands make for light work. But when she put music in her ears and feet up on the couch, flares of big emotions sparked everywhere. I had to intervene before the youngsters inflicted significant and permanent damage to the one testing her benefit that was clearly outlined in her sibling contract.
I tried to protect my daughter by claiming that only the president of a Fortune 500 company could decipher the chore chart’s many scribbles. My husband tried to give her the benefit of the doubt by stating that a weekend visitor shouldn’t have to do manual labor like wash the car or scrub the toilets.
Instead of diffusing the situation, we quickly made it escalate. The junior team members went on to demand adaptations in real time while our daughter cried for a simple and straightforward standard operating procedure.
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The kids argued passionately throughout the long weekend. My final review on Sunday evening was mixed. I was pleased with the robust communication and eventual completion of chores despite repeated reminders to stay on task.
Unfortunately, I deducted points for physical retaliation and name-calling. I let my children know to expect a mandatory team-building session when everyone comes home at year’s end. I will also schedule time to revisit the chore chart, but in the meantime, any questions can be directed to the color-coded, structurally-sound system taped to our refrigerator door.
Andrea Chacos lives in Carbondale, balancing work and happily raising three children with her husband. She strives to dodge curveballs life likes to throw with a bit of passion, humor and some flair.
