Time to revise the schedule ... again

I am thinking a lot about chores these days. It is time to revise the chore schedule at home, and I've been evaluating what the kids do in relation to their ages and abilities. Years ago we decided that teaching responsibility was more important to us than having a picture-perfect home. I'm pretty sure we are slowly achieving the first goal, and I am certain our home will never appear in a home and garden magazine.

These days, Max is learning to clear the table after dinner. At 4, this means it involves a lot of hopping, jumping, sword fighting and taking breaks to look for toys. His younger brother has to be right in there.

When Atticus clears the table, he alternates between eating tidbits left behind and throwing food on the floor. Wiping the table is a 10 minute task that leaves him soaking wet, the table streaked with water and bits of food. I wonder if we should just leave it all there for the next meal and be done with it, but I persevere.

Teaching kids to be helpful takes a lot of time and patience. Every morning, I go out with the younger girls to take care of animals. We check water, add feed and do the morning milking. Sophia reminds me daily that we don't need to rush through life. Mostly she reminds me of this by never, ever getting in a hurry about anything.

Now that the school year is in full swing, we are back to a schedule. It helps to streamline the chore time by setting a defined amount of time per chore. Our schedule is divided into 30-minute increments, which ensures I allot time for a little book learning, a lot of hands-on experiences and, as a bonus, we plan regular meals. The kids are able to stay on track without constant surveillance and reminders. Those are the perks.

The problem is that we fall off the schedule wagon. Farm chores come early — after coffee, before breakfast — and they have to get done. Other tasks are negotiable. Take this past Monday, for example.

My morning schedule should include some writing time, but Monday was the day that Porterhouse, the last of our first batch of calves, met the butcher, so we had to get ready for that. I was pretty sure Porter wasn't going to like the butcher much, and I had to keep reminding myself that this would be Porter's only bad day. He had been a pretty happy, if not particularly bright, little guy.

In between making arrangements for the calf and taking care of the other chores, I remembered that we'd skipped baths the night before. Not a problem if we were staying home, but the girls have an arts and crafts class that they love, and I wanted to get all evidence of the farm off of them before we left.

As I helped my daughter wash her hair, I heard Atticus come in behind me. "Gotta get the bubbles," he chanted. "Gotta get the bubbles." Moms have a way of knowing when to look, not just listen. Wrapped up in my hurry, this knowledge came too late.

I turned to see a trail of blue dish soap — I'm too cheap to buy real bubble bath — all over the floor, drip, drip, dripping out of the container that my son was holding, upside down, in his hands. "Gotta get the bubbles," he told me again as I wrestled the soap from his sticky hands.

I cleaned up the mess, got the kids out the door and mumbled to myself about getting things in order. I think the schedule still needs some work.

Rose Godfrey is a speech pathologist and homeschooling mom in Hallwood. Her homeschool blog can be found on the Appeal-Democrat Web site at www.appealdemocrat.com.