My 3 younger sisters and I were given an endless, joyless list of chores to do daily. My grandmother lived with us and did most cooking and laundry, but we cleaned the kitchen and washed dishes, folded clothes, vacuumed and dusted, wiped and polished the house, changed our bedding and cleaned our rooms, and had long lists of outdoor chores.
I don't remember my mom doing anything but bossing us around and making us redo things that didn't meet her specs. Never a hint of appreciation for a job well-done. (I learned many years later that she had a desperate need to keep her daughters under control and extremely busy, so we wouldn't marry the wrong guy or get pregnant out of wedlock, like she did.)
I grew up HATING chores of all descriptions. I let my own living space get messy when I finally lived on my own, and barely kept the house under control when I married (too young the first time, to the wrong guy, wouldn't you know?). My home was clean, but not organized. Just like my brain, as it turns out.
When I was a young adult, I had a wonderful experience – I showed up a little early at a friend's house for a worship group, and he was finishing the family dishes. He was happy; I would even say radiant. I chatted with him as I helped him dry dishes, and this young man genuinely had gratitude for his home and family, and a love of service, right down to the bottom of his sweet soul. It was a revolutionary thought for me – I might be HAPPY doing necessary tasks?
I began paying attention to my attitudes, and changing them. I made the astounding discovery that work and generosity and serving others can bring happiness. Not fleeting ego or body satisfaction, like buying a new blouse or eating something tasty, but a real, solid joy. It was (and still is) transformative.
Fortunately, I learned this wonderful lesson in time to leave my own daughter with a less-stressed relationship to chores. Now my grandson and I do tasks like clean up his room together, or weed and rake outside, happily, with a playful attitude. I demonstrate again and again that work, like play, can be a satisfying and happy experience, and something we can do with love for ourselves and others. And he's getting it – at five, he cheerfully volunteers for tasks and favors to others.
Now, I confess that I'm still disorganized and a bit messy. But this is more a personality quirk – I'm an artist, and genuinely crave having a bit of creative chaos around me, ready to transform into some new inspiration. Fortunately, my husband is quite similar, so we each have our messy work areas. My kitchen and bathroom are clean and sanitary. The living room stays clean enough to welcome guests on short notice.