Dad's Helpers Help Themselves, Too

House Doctor | Gary Dymski

July 17, 2003

The rain came early and mostly in soft drops. On the few occasions when the rain was heavy, we retreated to the garage for cover.

During one such retreat, my youngest son, Adam, 12, asked: "Can we finish today? Can we beat the rain?" His nylon jacket was soaked, and from cheeks to gym shoes he was spattered with a brown mixture of mulch and rain drops. He also was grinning. He must really like playing in the rain.

Except we weren't at play. Not at all. On this Saturday afternoon in June, my sons and I were spreading 20 yards of heavy, soggy brown mulch across our planting beds and an 80-foot-long slope that makes up the eastern border of our half-acre lot.

The weatherman had said it wouldn't rain until early evening, but he lied. The landscape supply promised the mulch would be delivered before 10 a.m. Another lie. It arrived after 11:30 a.m., and by that time, the rains decided to ignore the clock, too.

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We were persistent, and by early evening, when the rain finally increased for good, we had spread about 12 yards. As I covered what was left of the pile with tarps, my three sons, Al, 20, Matt, 13, and Adam, darted into the garage. They were laughing as they stripped out of soaked clothes. So why such odd behavior in the middle of doing chores?

"Your children had realized a sense of accomplishment," says Dr. Latha Chandran, chief of general pediatrics at Stony Brook University Hospital, explaining the laughter. "It sounds as if they realize that this privilege of being in a family involves giving something back."

Chandran agrees with me: Parents should be giving their children more responsibility around the house, from daily or weekly household chores to larger tasks. We are raising a generation of watchers, kids who play alone at video games and computer screens. "Some parents assign tasks and also dangle a financial reward," Chandran says. "That's OK if the reward is not outrageous. This way they learn that hard work can have its rewards."

Children can be given responsibilities at an early age, Chandran says. Be aware of their physical strength and their abilities, she says, and assign tasks they can do. As they get older, increase the responsibilities. "Don't just start when they're 15 and say, 'Here you go,'" she says.

Over the years, my five children have invested their own sweat equity into our homes. They've carried paving stones and retaining wall bricks, gathered leaves, cleaned the swimming pool and mowed the lawn. There is some monetary savings involved when our family does its own work, but the money always goes back to the kids in the form of sports equipment, clothing or entertainment.

Still, my sons' barking laughter from the garage signified nothing more to me that their ordeal was over. After all, when I had suggested their muscle would be greatly appreciated ("You will help or else"), they were less than enthusiastic. Upon hearing my request, Al remembered his roller-hockey game, and Matt wasn't feeling well. What had happened in the meantime?

Perhaps their attitude changed because our children can sense when we really need their help. They're just like other kids. We struggle to get them to straighten their rooms or hang their coats and backpacks. So their initial response was not unexpected. By the time the mulch was delivered, Al had left for his game and Matt, perhaps our hardest worker, was inside, feeling ill.

Adam, surprisingly, had neither the conflict nor complaint of his two older brothers. Almost immediately after the mulch was dumped at the foot of our slope, he dug right in.

He filled the red garden-style wheelbarrow and started up the slope, feet slipping slightly in the wet grass. After watching Adam make a few trips from an upstairs window, Matt, too, dug in, filling the larger contractor's wheelbarrow and following his brother's path up the slope. Al came back from his roller game - it was rained out - and began to shovel and push the wheelbarrow.

Little by little, they began joking as they worked. My wife, Vickie, joined in. She shoveled mulch for the next four to five hours. I imagine our daughters, Allyson, 16, and Melissa, 18, would have joined Mom, but they were busy with part-time jobs. Spreading cream cheese and lox had earned each of them a reprieve from spreading mulch.

As the boys worked, they complained about the weather and the gigantic pile of mulch that covered nearly half the street. "Dad, there are mountain ranges smaller than this pile," said Al. "Do you think you got enough?"

"There's enough here to mulch every house in the neighborhood," said Matt.

In the end, we barely had enough for my half acre. The next day, a dry, overcast Sunday, I finished spreading the remaining mulch - about 8 yards. Except for a few wheelbarrows delivered by Matt and his ice hockey teammate, I mostly worked alone.

And Sunday wasn't nearly as much fun.