Nothing dramatic to report as of yet. My family is still regarding me with tolerant amusement. They are clearly thinking I will "get over it" any moment now.
I think Daria is right and they don't fear me enough. And I don't know how to make them fear me. I think that's the problem. I'm not scary and they know it and I know it. And they know I know it.
When I told Redheaded Snippet I was going on strike, she smacked herself on the forehead like, "Oh, great! One more thing to inconvenience me!" Very nice. She wasn't all that upset until she heard that I won't be driving her anywhere except school, church or the appropriate medical personnel. THEN it hit home, by George.
"So, I'm going to be trapped in the house all week?!"
They all think this is going to last no longer than a week.
The Viking handled it pretty well but I could tell he thinks this is over-emotional, perhaps hormone-fueled nonsense. He's pretty much humoring me. His lips closed in a tight line and he took a deep breath and said, "You gotta go what you gotta do." I think he has been relieved and surprised that I've been nice to him since I made my announcement. I think he was expecting me to be silent and sulky.
Man-Cub, on the other hand, had a near meltdown. He is probably the one who will be most impacted by this experiment, as he should be. When told that I will not be cooking for him or doing his laundry, he acted as if I'd told him he'd be sleeping in a cage in the basement and thrown moldy crusts of bread for his meals.
Score one for Mom.
I assured him that there would be no need for him to starve. He asked, incredulous, what on earth he was supposed to eat. I don't think he realizes that most of the things he eats already do not require cooking. He is the King of Packaged Snacks. He'll probably have the time of his life in the food department. Because I told them I will be stocking the larder with all manner of foods that can easily be prepared by the three of them. That is one of my concessions.
I don't think the reality of Mom on Strike will hit home for them until tomorrow, but I am feeling it already. I threw a load of The Viking's laundry in the washer and then played a computer game until it was done. And now that I've transfered the clothes into the dryer, I'm going to bed. No fussing in the kitchen or racing around to get things tidied once more before heading upstairs. Or feeling guilty and like a failure because I haven't. Well, not much anyway.
We'll see how hard reality hits us tomorrow morning...