With three kids I live in perpetual chaos.
And by chaos, I mean clutter.
I don't think there is a surface in my house that doesn't have a Lego on it or under it. Not a room that doesn't contain a pair of shoes and at least three child or man sized socks at any given time.
And as the chaos, aka children, grow around me, my stifled little need for order writhes and screams inside me. Melodramatic? Maybe. But true?
Yes.
I am one of those terminally routine challenged. My A.D.D. has seen to that. Throw in a good dollop of lazy, a few time consuming hobbies, a full time job, and a writing addiction, and honestly I'm surprised we're not wading through a thigh-high pile of life to get to the fridge every day. I say "life" instead of a few other choice words of what we could be wading in. I'm trying to clean up my recently discovered sailor's mouth.
The fact is, I can't stand mess. I can't stand when two or more things are sitting next to each other and they aren't lined up. I crave order and beauty the way some people crave tobacco. The difference is... I can't buy order for $4.79 a pack.
If I could, I would be broke.
On the upside... order and beauty don't cause cancer, as far as I know. Not even in the state of California.
So I'm free to pursue my addiction without any guilt. And I don't feel bad trying to push it on my children either. The problem is, they don't want it.
Maybe I need a better campaign... one with subliminal messages and age-specific targeting.
Clean your room.
All the cool kids are doing it.
Hmmm... or maybe something more specific like,
Putting your backpack away will grow long shiny hair.
Alas, I doubt One Direction would agree to posing for my posters.
So where does that leave me?
Alone in my struggle for clear floors and a couch you don't have to shovel before sitting on.
And so I get my fixes online. Perusing pictures in magazines and reading blogs like I Heart Organizing at night after everyone's in bed. Clean closets... and perfectly lined up shoes... my own little form of internet porn.
And then there are my secret stashes.
Little areas like drawers and cabinets that I maintain as long as I can for my own sanity, until at some point the hordes infiltrate my space and turn it into this...
That was once a kitchen drawer.
And, no, I am not the one who uses scissors to cut open a granola bar and leaves the little portion of the wrapper laying there in the drawer each day. In fact, I've decided this year that habit shall stop.
I've decided 2013 is the year I will enable myself to take back a little more of my house each week, with One Direction's help or not.
Starting with that drawer.
We'll see how this works out. Can the hordes be tamed? Will I be able to live out my fantasy openly in the light of day? Will California discover that order and beauty really do cause cancer? Or will my A.D.D. make me forget my goal, distracting me with a sudden new passion for finding the perfect popcorn bowl...
Ooooh, pretty popcorn bowls.... wait... what was I talking about?
Oh right, my goal.
I guess only time will.tell.
And by chaos, I mean clutter.
I don't think there is a surface in my house that doesn't have a Lego on it or under it. Not a room that doesn't contain a pair of shoes and at least three child or man sized socks at any given time.
And as the chaos, aka children, grow around me, my stifled little need for order writhes and screams inside me. Melodramatic? Maybe. But true?
Yes.
I am one of those terminally routine challenged. My A.D.D. has seen to that. Throw in a good dollop of lazy, a few time consuming hobbies, a full time job, and a writing addiction, and honestly I'm surprised we're not wading through a thigh-high pile of life to get to the fridge every day. I say "life" instead of a few other choice words of what we could be wading in. I'm trying to clean up my recently discovered sailor's mouth.
The fact is, I can't stand mess. I can't stand when two or more things are sitting next to each other and they aren't lined up. I crave order and beauty the way some people crave tobacco. The difference is... I can't buy order for $4.79 a pack.
If I could, I would be broke.
On the upside... order and beauty don't cause cancer, as far as I know. Not even in the state of California.
So I'm free to pursue my addiction without any guilt. And I don't feel bad trying to push it on my children either. The problem is, they don't want it.
Maybe I need a better campaign... one with subliminal messages and age-specific targeting.
Clean your room.
All the cool kids are doing it.
Hmmm... or maybe something more specific like,
Putting your backpack away will grow long shiny hair.
Alas, I doubt One Direction would agree to posing for my posters.
So where does that leave me?
Alone in my struggle for clear floors and a couch you don't have to shovel before sitting on.
And so I get my fixes online. Perusing pictures in magazines and reading blogs like I Heart Organizing at night after everyone's in bed. Clean closets... and perfectly lined up shoes... my own little form of internet porn.
And then there are my secret stashes.
Little areas like drawers and cabinets that I maintain as long as I can for my own sanity, until at some point the hordes infiltrate my space and turn it into this...
That was once a kitchen drawer.
And, no, I am not the one who uses scissors to cut open a granola bar and leaves the little portion of the wrapper laying there in the drawer each day. In fact, I've decided this year that habit shall stop.
I've decided 2013 is the year I will enable myself to take back a little more of my house each week, with One Direction's help or not.
Starting with that drawer.
We'll see how this works out. Can the hordes be tamed? Will I be able to live out my fantasy openly in the light of day? Will California discover that order and beauty really do cause cancer? Or will my A.D.D. make me forget my goal, distracting me with a sudden new passion for finding the perfect popcorn bowl...
Ooooh, pretty popcorn bowls.... wait... what was I talking about?
Oh right, my goal.
I guess only time will.tell.
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