Turns out I’ll do almost anything for chocolate

I tried everything.

Begging, pleading, sticker charts, gold stars, making it public, ignoring it and hoping it would get better.

No, I’m not talking about toilet training (although that turned out to have the same solution, I’m afraid).  No, what I’m talking about getting all my chores done every day.

It’s not like I was buried under the dishes or trying to dig my way out of a six-foot pile of laundry.  Everyone was still fed and clothed (not the cats – we don’t clothe animals around here) and I ran the vacuum here and there.

But the constant clutter was wearing me down, each misplaced item a paper cut to my spirit.  I knew if I could just tackle these ten items each day, then I would regain some {illusion of} control over my life, and would maybe even have time to create and meet new goals.

Yet every day, I would get through about four of them before collapsing on the couch and telling my husband to pass the remote.  I felt worn down by just the constant maintenance that keeping up with the boys requires, and it seemed like I never had time to just get through what should be a simple list.  How hard can it be to just wash the dratted dishes every night so I could start with a clean sink every morning?  Yet I would merely scowl at them and check out the latest Netflix offerings instead.  I’d catch up on the weekend, vow to do better next week, and be back at square one by Wednesday.

Until I discovered the truth about myself.  One night, despairing over both my undone chore calendar and my unshrinking waistline,  I declared to my husband that I could not, would not have dessert at night until I did every single thing on my daily list.  I assumed this would mean that I would only get dessert once or twice a week, which I figured was a good thing.  Because after all, I’d tried every habit-shaping device I could think of, and I was beginning to accept that the list was more of a guideline, really, much like the Pirate Code.

Turns out, being exhausted at 8 p.m. means that I am so desperate for some sweet return on the trials of the day that I am willing to zip through those chores. It doesn’t matter what it is, really, though Ben & Jerry’s is still my reward of choice.  But I will do ’em all even for a Hershey’s kiss or two.  Two straight weeks of getting ten lovely checkmarks each day, I thought I had it nailed.  I let the cookie jar empty out and thought my daily habit had finally been created.

Four disappointing days of failure later, I bought some Vanilla Heath Bar Chunk, chugged through the list, and vowed never to be without chocolate again.

My waistline may not recover, but my house looks pretty freaking good.

Now I wonder what it will take to get the garage cleaned out…