I love to make lists. If I put pen to paper and map out what I need to accomplish, I feel so organized, even if it is only in my own mind. There’s something so satisfying about completing a task and crossing it off a list. I think, too, the fact that I have four kids, two jobs, two dogs and a disaster of a house practically necessitates that I make lists!
I try to model positive traits to my children that I think will serve them better later in life. I know how being organized is one of those traits, and I know that list making has helped me accomplish my tasks. So, I make lists for them!
Daryl, my husband, is not a list kind of guy. I’ll make lists for him, too, of projects I would like him to do for me; tasks I just can’t do myself. I figure, he works on other people’s houses all day, replacing, remodeling and revamping bathrooms, kitchens, and various other rooms. My house is in dire need of some major renovation but as Daryl always says, “The cobbler’s kids are always barefoot.” My dishwasher could care less about the cobbler’s kids; getting Daryl to look at it practically takes an act of Congress.
I did have a revelation this summer, however. Daryl’s mother asked him to come visit and help her with some fix-its around her house. He was up on the roof, cleaning gutters; he replaced a toliet; he fixed a ceiling fan, just to name a few. I had to know her secret to getting him to complete these chores!
“I give him a list,” she replied to my prodding. I stood there, incredulous. And then, it hit me. I will give HER my lists to give to him.
When we arrived home, Daryl got right to work on the dishwasher. I turned to my kids with a sly grin and said, “See? It pays to make lists.”
Satisfied, I took a pen and crossed “dishwasher” off my list.