Momservation: Parenthood is a journey made up of little moments that make you gaze upon your child, turn to your spouse and say, “Whose kid is this anyway?”

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I like to think I’m doing a nice job raising my children. That at this point in the game I’ve firmly implanted some good morals, values and expectations. And most of the time I can look at my kids and honestly feel pride and satisfaction that these kids are going to do alright.

Other times I just pray I haven’t messed them up too bad.

So the other day, I see a teachable moment and pounce on it. I figure I can give my kids a hands-on lesson by showing them what taking responsibility means (instead of yelling it at them while laying waste to teaching them to watch their tempers).

I was doing laundry. I HATE laundry. If I had the money of Oprah I’d just buy new clothes and underwear every day. Or if I had the body of Jennifer Lopez I’d just walk around naked.

So, there I was, wasting my precious time on this earth by Shout-ing out stains, and my kids go moping by because I made them put away their clean and folded clothes themselves.

“Hey, I got a question for you,” I say to them. “Do you think Mommy likes doing laundry?”

“No, you HATE laundry,” they say in unison. I’m not sure if I’m pleased with their perception or mad at myself for not setting a good example with a better attitude.

“Please, don’t use the word “hate” – it’s not a nice word,” I say. Then I make a mental note to self: Quit using the word hate – it’s not a nice word. Probably should quit saying God d*** it, too.

Despite their unfortunate, yet accurate, choice of words they stepped right into my teachable moment. “Mommy doesn’t like laundry, but I do it anyway, right?” They both nod. “That’s what taking responsibility means. It means doing things because you should, because they need to be done, or because it’s the right thing to do. You may not always like it, or want to do it, or it might be hard and no fun, but you do it anyway.”

This is where my Proud Parenting Moment (PPM) happened. And if there was a font for sarcasm you would know already my kids didn’t suddenly light up with understanding and drop everything to help fold clothes.

No, instead this little conversation unfolded:

Whitney, 8, says, “I HATE laundry. I never want to do it.”

Logan, 9, then declares, “Well, you better learn to like laundry Whitney, because one day you’re going to be a mom.”

Says Whitney, “That’s why I’m not getting married until I’m like, 64.”

To which Logan replies, “Then you’re going to be a lonely old lady who talks to her cats.”

Hmmm, didn’t know that was an option.

But just to make sure my son didn’t continue down this early wrong course of thinking laundry was women’s work, as soon as Hubby got home I shoved a basket of clean clothes at him and said, “Make sure you fold this in sight of your son, please.”