I remember when I was young and dreaming of having a family, I knew everything would be perfect. Yes the first couple months would be rough, there would be late night feedings, and I had heard that teething was hard. But that was such a small part of the time, and the joy of having my happy baby would more than make up for a few sleepless nights.
That was then, this is now. I have often wondered who came up with the whole secrecy thing when it comes to child rearing? No one ever told me that having a baby would be the end of sleep as I knew it. My first baby decided that everything was far too interesting to ever willingly go to sleep. Hours were spent bouncing and patting, singing and soothing, all to no avail. I finally found I could lay her down and nurse her to sleep. I couldn't move her mind you, the slightest shift would rouse her immediately so I would sleep next to her. Now I know there is a huge controversy about the safety of your child when co-sleeping, but we made out just fine. The success was due, in part, to the fact that I am a light sleeper and I was so sleep deprived that I could easily sleep in an awkward position with my arm creating a protective arc over her.
Unfortunately I was so successful with this method that now, at age nine, she still wants Mommy to sleep next to her when ever she has trouble falling to sleep. Even more unfortunate, for me anyway, she has trouble falling asleep more often than not.
The other night my little Miss was not feeling well. So I did what I always do, I climbed into bed next to her. This is a technique I learned from my mother. When I was sick, she would make a bed for me on the love seat in the living room, and she would sleep on the couch. I remember the comforting feeling of knowing Mom was right there if I needed her. So my sickie and I snuggled down for a night's rest, knowing I would not be the one getting much rest. Sure enough, I rolled over on my belly and started to drift off. That when my little one rolled over and slung her leg over my back. Seriously? There I lay, her knee between my shoulder blades and her foot in the small of my back. What was I to do?
I did what any good momma would do. I fell asleep.
Don't Say I Didn't Tell You.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Monday, September 10, 2012
Defining Moments
We all have them, those moments we look back at and say, "yeah THAT really screwed me up." Some of us have more than others, but truth is we all have them. I was having lunch with one of my dearest friends the other day. She is one of those friends that you can just pick up where you left off no matter how long its been since you last spoke. She gets me.
I asked her a question that has been bothering me lately. "Why do I just give up? Why is it that when I meet an obstacle, ANY obstacle, I quit pursuing my goal no matter how much I want whatever I am pursuing?" She looked at me and said, "Good question, you do that. But I will have to think about it before I give you an answer." Fair enough.
As I pondered the situation I came upon some insight, oddly enough sparked by a group on Facebook. I logged in for my daily fix of checking up on people, yes I am one of those people, and I noticed a new group in which I had been included. The group was from high school and you could go confess your secret crushes. I thought to myself, why on earth would I do that? I wouldn't admit it then for fear of being laughed at and that is all that would happen now.
So, like any good face book stalker, I took a peek. There were a lot of people I didn't know who liked a lot of other people I didn't know. There were a lot of guys who had crushes on the "popular" girls who we already knew everyone had crushes on. Same could be said for the "popular" guys. I had that bitter, self righteous burning inside me that made me avoid high school reunions for 25 years. I was an unknown then and I am still an (insert explicative here) unknown. I have to admit the whole thing threw me into a serious funk.
But I got to thinking, after reading one of the "pretty girl" conversations, about how they were always worried about their weight and how they looked and even went so far as to say that no ever felt worthy of the one they had a crush on. Huh. Very insightful for a "pretty girl" (okay when reading that, firmly plant your tongue in your cheek). Maybe this is where my hang up comes from, my lack of self worth.
So in the midst of my funk, I started thinking about old crushes, and I choose to hide my feelings rather than take a risk. My mind went back to grade school, back when I was a trusting soul and thought everybody was my friend. I had a crush on a guy who was a friend of mine. He was cute and hysterically funny (I've always fallen for funny guys). I told a girl who I thought was a friend and she promised she wouldn't tell anyone. This promise was forgotten as soon as she saw the young man in question. She let him know and, as it often happens when you don't feel that way about someone, things got awkward. In fact, from that moment on he didn't speak to me unless absolutely necessary. I was heartbroken.
In one fell swoop I felt the sting of rejection, lost a friend, and learned a hard lesson about trust. But here is the sad thing, I allowed what I THOUGHT he was thinking define me. By his avoidance, I defined myself as unworthy, ugly, and believed I was an embarrassment to anyone who had the misfortune of being the object of my desire. In reality, I have no idea what he thought, or even what she told him. My own embarrassment likely colored everything and perhaps he didn't really avoid me, but I shied away from him. At this point who knows? What I do know is that experience became a defining moment.
Where does one develop their self concept? I imagine most of us develop the belief of who we are from the feedback we get from those around us. Like it or not there is a pecking order in human relationships just as there is in the animal kingdom. I decided early on that I was going to stick myself nice and low on the order BEFORE anyone else could. I my mind, if I make myself feel bad about being me, its a whole lot better than someone else making me feel bad. This is how I developed one of my many forms of self defense. I make fun of me before you can.
The bad part of all of this is I am so steeped in this faulty thinking I am finding it hard to break free. If I look back there have been people that have tried to instill in me a sense of worth. In fact, the input from these people have been so jarring to the insecure and worthless cloak I wrap around myself that I still remember each event with a sense of awe. In junior high school, there was a teacher that told me he believed I could be the first female president. A guy in my English class saw a picture of me from a Halloween party in which I dressed as Sheena of the Jungle. He said I could swing through his vines anytime (I didn't say they were all enlightened comments). I had a comment written on a piece of creative writing in college. The head of the English Department said my writing was worthy of Edith Wharton. I couldn't believe my eyes! Granted there was a slight possibility that she hated the writings Edith Wharton...
My point is this, I had allowed the negative influences of my life so define me that when confronted with the positives I simply could not believe them. That said, these positive moments are forever etched in my mind. I have made it my mission to protect my daughters from the pit I fell into. I want them to develop a healthy respect for themselves and not fall prey to the doubts and insecurity that can steal the joy from life. In order to do that, I have some obstacles I need to overcome. Which brings me back to the start of this little stream of consciousness, where I find myself quitting in the face of adversity. Perhaps I will now find the incentive I need to overcome.
I guess I am a work in progress, we all are. We can't allow ourselves to believe that it is all over, that there is no point to go on. I will continue the cling to the promise from scripture that says, "He that began a good work in you, will carry it on until completion until the day of Christ's return." Philippians 1:6 I know that Paul was talking to the church of Phillipi but I also believe I can count on this personally.
Now I need to get started on some goals, so if I seem stuck give me some encouragement. You may be another person engraved in my mind (and end up on my blog).
Don't say I never told you.
I asked her a question that has been bothering me lately. "Why do I just give up? Why is it that when I meet an obstacle, ANY obstacle, I quit pursuing my goal no matter how much I want whatever I am pursuing?" She looked at me and said, "Good question, you do that. But I will have to think about it before I give you an answer." Fair enough.
As I pondered the situation I came upon some insight, oddly enough sparked by a group on Facebook. I logged in for my daily fix of checking up on people, yes I am one of those people, and I noticed a new group in which I had been included. The group was from high school and you could go confess your secret crushes. I thought to myself, why on earth would I do that? I wouldn't admit it then for fear of being laughed at and that is all that would happen now.
So, like any good face book stalker, I took a peek. There were a lot of people I didn't know who liked a lot of other people I didn't know. There were a lot of guys who had crushes on the "popular" girls who we already knew everyone had crushes on. Same could be said for the "popular" guys. I had that bitter, self righteous burning inside me that made me avoid high school reunions for 25 years. I was an unknown then and I am still an (insert explicative here) unknown. I have to admit the whole thing threw me into a serious funk.
But I got to thinking, after reading one of the "pretty girl" conversations, about how they were always worried about their weight and how they looked and even went so far as to say that no ever felt worthy of the one they had a crush on. Huh. Very insightful for a "pretty girl" (okay when reading that, firmly plant your tongue in your cheek). Maybe this is where my hang up comes from, my lack of self worth.
So in the midst of my funk, I started thinking about old crushes, and I choose to hide my feelings rather than take a risk. My mind went back to grade school, back when I was a trusting soul and thought everybody was my friend. I had a crush on a guy who was a friend of mine. He was cute and hysterically funny (I've always fallen for funny guys). I told a girl who I thought was a friend and she promised she wouldn't tell anyone. This promise was forgotten as soon as she saw the young man in question. She let him know and, as it often happens when you don't feel that way about someone, things got awkward. In fact, from that moment on he didn't speak to me unless absolutely necessary. I was heartbroken.
In one fell swoop I felt the sting of rejection, lost a friend, and learned a hard lesson about trust. But here is the sad thing, I allowed what I THOUGHT he was thinking define me. By his avoidance, I defined myself as unworthy, ugly, and believed I was an embarrassment to anyone who had the misfortune of being the object of my desire. In reality, I have no idea what he thought, or even what she told him. My own embarrassment likely colored everything and perhaps he didn't really avoid me, but I shied away from him. At this point who knows? What I do know is that experience became a defining moment.
Where does one develop their self concept? I imagine most of us develop the belief of who we are from the feedback we get from those around us. Like it or not there is a pecking order in human relationships just as there is in the animal kingdom. I decided early on that I was going to stick myself nice and low on the order BEFORE anyone else could. I my mind, if I make myself feel bad about being me, its a whole lot better than someone else making me feel bad. This is how I developed one of my many forms of self defense. I make fun of me before you can.
The bad part of all of this is I am so steeped in this faulty thinking I am finding it hard to break free. If I look back there have been people that have tried to instill in me a sense of worth. In fact, the input from these people have been so jarring to the insecure and worthless cloak I wrap around myself that I still remember each event with a sense of awe. In junior high school, there was a teacher that told me he believed I could be the first female president. A guy in my English class saw a picture of me from a Halloween party in which I dressed as Sheena of the Jungle. He said I could swing through his vines anytime (I didn't say they were all enlightened comments). I had a comment written on a piece of creative writing in college. The head of the English Department said my writing was worthy of Edith Wharton. I couldn't believe my eyes! Granted there was a slight possibility that she hated the writings Edith Wharton...
My point is this, I had allowed the negative influences of my life so define me that when confronted with the positives I simply could not believe them. That said, these positive moments are forever etched in my mind. I have made it my mission to protect my daughters from the pit I fell into. I want them to develop a healthy respect for themselves and not fall prey to the doubts and insecurity that can steal the joy from life. In order to do that, I have some obstacles I need to overcome. Which brings me back to the start of this little stream of consciousness, where I find myself quitting in the face of adversity. Perhaps I will now find the incentive I need to overcome.
I guess I am a work in progress, we all are. We can't allow ourselves to believe that it is all over, that there is no point to go on. I will continue the cling to the promise from scripture that says, "He that began a good work in you, will carry it on until completion until the day of Christ's return." Philippians 1:6 I know that Paul was talking to the church of Phillipi but I also believe I can count on this personally.
Now I need to get started on some goals, so if I seem stuck give me some encouragement. You may be another person engraved in my mind (and end up on my blog).
Don't say I never told you.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Color Me Red
I find them everywhere: spelling mistakes and grammatical errors; they glare at me from social media, signposts, you name it. I find them everywhere except in my own writing, and THAT, my friends, drives me crazy! I would be completely lost without spell check. But the problem I encounter so often is that I will inadvertently spell a word I had not intended to write. Of course, that word I spell correctly. Spell check cannot tell me, "Hey, knucklehead, do you REALLY want to say that?"
Sometimes this has hilarious consequences. Take my last post example: now, before you quickly look for the error, another writer friend pointed it out, and it is now corrected. In my case, I wanted to say "paint that as well"; instead, I said, "paint that ass well." One little letter and a totally different meaning. Embarrassed? Yes, but I also found it funny.
I once had a proofreader spot on my college's newspaper. What a mistake! Yes, I caught quite a few errors, but honestly I was down there because I had a thing for one of the guys who also worked on the paper. Let's just say my attention to detail was lacking a bit when he was around.
I remember a mistake that my boyfriend in college made. It was such a great blunder that it made the list of best mistakes for that professor's class. The paper was a well-written piece on George Washington. However, one little typo changed history. The final sentence read, "This is why George Washington will go down in the 'anals' of history." Again, one little letter makes such a big difference.
So I invite you to share with me some of the best (worst) mistakes you've made and didn't catch in your writing. How did you end up finding it?
Don't Say I Didn't Tell You.
Lisa
Sometimes this has hilarious consequences. Take my last post example: now, before you quickly look for the error, another writer friend pointed it out, and it is now corrected. In my case, I wanted to say "paint that as well"; instead, I said, "paint that ass well." One little letter and a totally different meaning. Embarrassed? Yes, but I also found it funny.
I once had a proofreader spot on my college's newspaper. What a mistake! Yes, I caught quite a few errors, but honestly I was down there because I had a thing for one of the guys who also worked on the paper. Let's just say my attention to detail was lacking a bit when he was around.
I remember a mistake that my boyfriend in college made. It was such a great blunder that it made the list of best mistakes for that professor's class. The paper was a well-written piece on George Washington. However, one little typo changed history. The final sentence read, "This is why George Washington will go down in the 'anals' of history." Again, one little letter makes such a big difference.
So I invite you to share with me some of the best (worst) mistakes you've made and didn't catch in your writing. How did you end up finding it?
Don't Say I Didn't Tell You.
Lisa
Monday, March 5, 2012
See Here
Today I had an eye doctor appointment. I was so excited because that meant I was getting new glasses! Whoopee! New glasses, new glasses, I get new glasses! Why am I so excited about this? I hate wearing glasses but I love changing my look. When I turned 40 I decided that life was too short to have boring glasses. That year I went with a whole new shape for me, kind of a granny rectangle but they were magenta with these little stripes. When I got home with them, my family stared in shock. I loved it.
Next time I got glasses I went with a similar shape by the same maker, but that time the colors were black and clear with a touch of silver. They were pretty cool but in my opinion a bit too tame to hold my interest. I am not one of those people that needs the validation of other people in order to be comfortable with what I am wearing, I certainly don't mind shaking thing up a bit. Lets just say I was having an off day when I picked them out.
This time around I went a bit nerdy. The frames are tortoise shell on the outside and Vera Bradley's "Happy Snails" on the inside. Now I am not a huge over the top Vera fan. But I have to say, having worked with the Vera Bradley products, the stuff grows on you. And come on, "Happy Snails?" The name alone makes me happy.
So I am looking forward to getting the new glasses, but for me this is a bit like when you start a painting project. Do you know how the project starts with just painting a few walls? Then you notice that the trim looks a bit dingy so you paint that as well. But with the walls and trim painted the ceiling is really looking bad so that must be done. By the time you finish, you've gotten to the point where you are looking at carpet and checking out catalogs for furniture.
That is where I am, if I have new glasses then I am bound to get my hair cut. If I get my hair cut then maybe I should think about changing the color. And so it goes, I love reinventing myself, who knows where this will end? I may even start shopping for a tattoo!
By the time I get settled, it will be time for new glasses.
Don't Say I Didn't Tell You.
Lisa
Next time I got glasses I went with a similar shape by the same maker, but that time the colors were black and clear with a touch of silver. They were pretty cool but in my opinion a bit too tame to hold my interest. I am not one of those people that needs the validation of other people in order to be comfortable with what I am wearing, I certainly don't mind shaking thing up a bit. Lets just say I was having an off day when I picked them out.
This time around I went a bit nerdy. The frames are tortoise shell on the outside and Vera Bradley's "Happy Snails" on the inside. Now I am not a huge over the top Vera fan. But I have to say, having worked with the Vera Bradley products, the stuff grows on you. And come on, "Happy Snails?" The name alone makes me happy.
So I am looking forward to getting the new glasses, but for me this is a bit like when you start a painting project. Do you know how the project starts with just painting a few walls? Then you notice that the trim looks a bit dingy so you paint that as well. But with the walls and trim painted the ceiling is really looking bad so that must be done. By the time you finish, you've gotten to the point where you are looking at carpet and checking out catalogs for furniture.
That is where I am, if I have new glasses then I am bound to get my hair cut. If I get my hair cut then maybe I should think about changing the color. And so it goes, I love reinventing myself, who knows where this will end? I may even start shopping for a tattoo!
By the time I get settled, it will be time for new glasses.
Don't Say I Didn't Tell You.
Lisa
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Your Memory Muscles
I read an article once that was written by a daughter whose father was in the latter stages of Alzheimer Syndrome. One of the things that stands out in my memory was when she would go to see him she would mention golfing and he would stand up and show her his swing. As his muscles remembered the action they used so long ago, his mind would begin to show signs of memory as well. This amazed the writer, and it amazed me as well.
I have been endeavoring to exercise and eat right in order to get my body into a healthier state of being. Let's be honest, I'd love to feel confident wearing shorts this summer in addition to the better health. Today, I had a glimpse of the memory that your working muscles can spark.
As I was struggling through my last reps of my bench press, tears came to my eyes. I felt exhaustion for sure but I also was hit with a long repressed memory from my past. I was at once in my own basement, and back in time in my parents' garage. Both times exercising to the point of exhaustion, but in that garage so long ago, there was nothing healthy going on. Back then I thought I was in love with a misunderstood young man I will call Mr. X. I thought that if I could just love him and sacrifice enough for him, Mr. X would turn his life around, and he would love me in return. Sadly I was wrong. I thought if I exercised and lost weight, then Mr. X would love me, so I went on yet another diet and allowed him to be my "trainer."
It was one of these training sessions that came back to me. This particular time, Mr.X put me through a grueling workout, in fact pushing me to the point of exhaustion and beyond. When I admitted I could do no more, my muscles were twitching from the exertion. I remember the feeling of being crushed as he went out with his friends and another girl that night. In the days that followed, the pain and soreness were a mocking reminder that you cannot make someone love you.
Though the memories were painful today, I'm glad they were brought to the surface as a reminder of that lesson I had long forgotten. You see, sometimes we start out with the best of intentions, only to have our motives and priorities subtly twisted. Each time I make healthy choices in my eating, or exercise my body, I must remember the reason must be to show love for MYSELF, and the one who created me. To do these things for anyone or anything else would be pointless.
I am glad that I am in the present, though I may be heavier than I was then, I am so grateful that I am also wiser.
Don't Say I Never Told You.
Lisa
I have been endeavoring to exercise and eat right in order to get my body into a healthier state of being. Let's be honest, I'd love to feel confident wearing shorts this summer in addition to the better health. Today, I had a glimpse of the memory that your working muscles can spark.
As I was struggling through my last reps of my bench press, tears came to my eyes. I felt exhaustion for sure but I also was hit with a long repressed memory from my past. I was at once in my own basement, and back in time in my parents' garage. Both times exercising to the point of exhaustion, but in that garage so long ago, there was nothing healthy going on. Back then I thought I was in love with a misunderstood young man I will call Mr. X. I thought that if I could just love him and sacrifice enough for him, Mr. X would turn his life around, and he would love me in return. Sadly I was wrong. I thought if I exercised and lost weight, then Mr. X would love me, so I went on yet another diet and allowed him to be my "trainer."
It was one of these training sessions that came back to me. This particular time, Mr.X put me through a grueling workout, in fact pushing me to the point of exhaustion and beyond. When I admitted I could do no more, my muscles were twitching from the exertion. I remember the feeling of being crushed as he went out with his friends and another girl that night. In the days that followed, the pain and soreness were a mocking reminder that you cannot make someone love you.
Though the memories were painful today, I'm glad they were brought to the surface as a reminder of that lesson I had long forgotten. You see, sometimes we start out with the best of intentions, only to have our motives and priorities subtly twisted. Each time I make healthy choices in my eating, or exercise my body, I must remember the reason must be to show love for MYSELF, and the one who created me. To do these things for anyone or anything else would be pointless.
I am glad that I am in the present, though I may be heavier than I was then, I am so grateful that I am also wiser.
Don't Say I Never Told You.
Lisa
Friday, March 2, 2012
Slice Of Life 2012
Here is a lesson for you. Never get so comfortable with technology that you trust it to always work. Case in point, my friend Pamela sent this blogging link for Slice 2012 on my wall on Facebook. Now I have my Facebook account set up to notify me of comments and messages. For the most part it works pretty well, in fact, it almost seems like someone can burp in my general direction and Facebook tells me about it. I can even reply back and the person gets my message,well usually it does anyway. But just when you get good and comfortable, BAM! "Oh that message about blogging everyday? You were actually interested in that? So sorry."
Anyway, I got it today so I suppose blogging 30 days in a row will have to be good enough. It's definitely better than my previous track record of bi monthly posts. I need a lesson on diligence and this is going to be the least painful of all the ways of which I can think. Believe me, I can think of some pretty painful teachers, and almost none of them are fun.
So here is a slice of life in March 2012.
Don't Say I Didn't Tell You.
Lisa
Anyway, I got it today so I suppose blogging 30 days in a row will have to be good enough. It's definitely better than my previous track record of bi monthly posts. I need a lesson on diligence and this is going to be the least painful of all the ways of which I can think. Believe me, I can think of some pretty painful teachers, and almost none of them are fun.
So here is a slice of life in March 2012.
Don't Say I Didn't Tell You.
Lisa
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Housekeeping 101: ADD Style
It's no secret that any relationship has certain issues when it comes to housekeeping. There can be skirmishes on should the toilet paper roll over or under, forks in the dishwasher go tines up or tines down, and of course whether the dirty underwear stays on the floor or makes it into the hamper.
My marriage is no different, and each of us has our reasons for doing the things we do. When Dave and I were dating, I was determined to let him see the real me. I made no special effort to clean up when he was coming over. So he saw the piles of books I kept on the unused side of the bed, the many art projects in various stages of completion, the stack of folded laundry sitting on the dresser and the pile of laundry next to the dresser. I never claimed to be Suzy Homemaker, and since he never said anything, I figured he was okay with my level of controlled chaos.
I was wrong. You see Dave figured I would "grow up" after we were married, and I would suddenly morph into someone whose focus was keeping a neat and tidy home. I don't know if he pictured me wearing pearls or not but if he did, at least I could handle that part of the fantasy. What my poor husband didn't realize was the apartment I lived in was evidence of me all grown up.
As a kid, my room resembled something you would see in an episode of "Hoarders." Piles of stuff made up of clothes, toys, books, perhaps the wayward petrified peanut butter and jelly sandwich, engulfed my tiny living space. I did try to leave a path from the bed to door, but there was the occasional avalanche. Mom would often say she need to tie a rope to the door and around her waist just to find her way out.
When cleaning as a kid, bags (yes that is plural) of trash would come out of the room. But more often than not half way through the ordeal I would panic and just shove things under the bed. There were times I swore the bed was no longer sitting on the floor. It would take DAYS to clean my room. At wits end, my mother decided to be brave and come in to see what I was actually doing. There I sat, reading each note, magazine and whatnot before deciding where to put it. Dolls where dressed and hair brushed before being seated just so in their doll house. No wonder it took so long! So mom made the sacrifice and would sit on my bed, giving words of encouragement like, "FOCUS." "Throw it out." And my personal favorite, "EWWWW what was that?"
Time marched on and eventually I got the hang of organizing my space, well sort of anyway. See I am a "visual" person, what that means is I need to see my stuff other wise I forget I have it. The style I perfected for myself is piling. I pile things up. Now to the rest of the world, these are not neat tidy piles. But what the rest of the world does not realize is those bits of paper sticking out of my pile is actually my filing system. I know this may not work for the majority of people but it works for me.
Unfortunately my system, in fact my entire visual personality, doesn't work for my husband. So I frequently try to clean and organize our home. Now for those of you that don't know this, we have 5 kids ages 18 - 7, we have a golden retriever (oh the hair!), 2 parakeets (oh the feathers!) and 1 guinea pig. Suffice to say cleaning up our home is not for the faint of heart.
So its time to get serious. I start, as I am sure ANYONE would, at the computer. Looking up organizing and cleaning techniques leads me to some interesting data about cluttering and individuals with ADHD. After 10 or so minutes I move on, it is time to get serious and I will once I finish the quiz on hoarding personalities.
After the quiz, which not surprisingly, cast some suspicion my discomfort with throwing things away, I get started in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher of the plates I convinced my friend to give me when I found out she was going to donate them. Next I wipe down the table and chairs that came from a former neighbor, and 2 chairs I found on the side of the road. They are perfectly good chairs, or they will be once I refinish them.
On to the stack of papers that I have been meaning to put in the recycling bin, or should I say bins? For some reason I always for get to take the bins out to be recycled. As I am about to drop the papers in I spy a catalog I haven't looked at yet. So out comes the catalog and in go the papers. The catalog reminds me I haven't gotten the mail yet today, so I place it on the pile of magazines and such that I keep meaning to read so I can get rid of them.
On the way to the mailbox I notice there are spring flowers starting to peek out the dirt, so I stop to admire them. Remembering why I came outside I get the mail and look to see if anything fun came today. I add the mail to the growing stacks of paper that cover the half wall. Oh look a coffee coupon from Dunkin' Donuts!
The coupon reminds me that I left my coffee cup upstairs and I really want a sip. So up the steps I go, stopping in the girls' room to make sure their light are turn off. While I'm there I may as well open the curtains, and pick up some clothes, and toys. Now I have to remember why I came upstairs. Oh that's right the coffee!
In my room I go over to the bedside table and see my watch, which I had better put in the jewelry tray before it gets lost. I then make my bed, and put away a few of the clothes I left on the side of the tub. It's then that remember I had started laundry and had better empty the dryer.
In the laundry room downstairs, I see that I forgot to shut the lid to the washer so the clothes have just been soaking. I shut the lid and the washer moves on to the spin cycle and since it isn't ready to be emptied, I put the dryer on fluff thinking it will help keep the wrinkles out of the clothes. At this point I look around for my coffee again and trudge back upstairs for it. I'm now tired, it's practically lunch time so I come back to the kitchen, coffee in hand and make some lunch.
There I sit, eating lunch, reading a magazine while catching up with Facebook and possibly some email. When I hear the washer stop I know my time is up and I try desperately to remember where I left off with my cleaning. There have been days that my husband comes home and can list everything I worked on that day. When I ask him how he can possibly know all that he just smiles and says, "I just follow the trail half finished tasks and it tells me everything I need to know."
There you have it! So if you are dating and see many piles or unusual "collections" in your significant other's space, don't say I never told you!
My marriage is no different, and each of us has our reasons for doing the things we do. When Dave and I were dating, I was determined to let him see the real me. I made no special effort to clean up when he was coming over. So he saw the piles of books I kept on the unused side of the bed, the many art projects in various stages of completion, the stack of folded laundry sitting on the dresser and the pile of laundry next to the dresser. I never claimed to be Suzy Homemaker, and since he never said anything, I figured he was okay with my level of controlled chaos.
I was wrong. You see Dave figured I would "grow up" after we were married, and I would suddenly morph into someone whose focus was keeping a neat and tidy home. I don't know if he pictured me wearing pearls or not but if he did, at least I could handle that part of the fantasy. What my poor husband didn't realize was the apartment I lived in was evidence of me all grown up.
As a kid, my room resembled something you would see in an episode of "Hoarders." Piles of stuff made up of clothes, toys, books, perhaps the wayward petrified peanut butter and jelly sandwich, engulfed my tiny living space. I did try to leave a path from the bed to door, but there was the occasional avalanche. Mom would often say she need to tie a rope to the door and around her waist just to find her way out.
When cleaning as a kid, bags (yes that is plural) of trash would come out of the room. But more often than not half way through the ordeal I would panic and just shove things under the bed. There were times I swore the bed was no longer sitting on the floor. It would take DAYS to clean my room. At wits end, my mother decided to be brave and come in to see what I was actually doing. There I sat, reading each note, magazine and whatnot before deciding where to put it. Dolls where dressed and hair brushed before being seated just so in their doll house. No wonder it took so long! So mom made the sacrifice and would sit on my bed, giving words of encouragement like, "FOCUS." "Throw it out." And my personal favorite, "EWWWW what was that?"
Time marched on and eventually I got the hang of organizing my space, well sort of anyway. See I am a "visual" person, what that means is I need to see my stuff other wise I forget I have it. The style I perfected for myself is piling. I pile things up. Now to the rest of the world, these are not neat tidy piles. But what the rest of the world does not realize is those bits of paper sticking out of my pile is actually my filing system. I know this may not work for the majority of people but it works for me.
Unfortunately my system, in fact my entire visual personality, doesn't work for my husband. So I frequently try to clean and organize our home. Now for those of you that don't know this, we have 5 kids ages 18 - 7, we have a golden retriever (oh the hair!), 2 parakeets (oh the feathers!) and 1 guinea pig. Suffice to say cleaning up our home is not for the faint of heart.
So its time to get serious. I start, as I am sure ANYONE would, at the computer. Looking up organizing and cleaning techniques leads me to some interesting data about cluttering and individuals with ADHD. After 10 or so minutes I move on, it is time to get serious and I will once I finish the quiz on hoarding personalities.
After the quiz, which not surprisingly, cast some suspicion my discomfort with throwing things away, I get started in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher of the plates I convinced my friend to give me when I found out she was going to donate them. Next I wipe down the table and chairs that came from a former neighbor, and 2 chairs I found on the side of the road. They are perfectly good chairs, or they will be once I refinish them.
On to the stack of papers that I have been meaning to put in the recycling bin, or should I say bins? For some reason I always for get to take the bins out to be recycled. As I am about to drop the papers in I spy a catalog I haven't looked at yet. So out comes the catalog and in go the papers. The catalog reminds me I haven't gotten the mail yet today, so I place it on the pile of magazines and such that I keep meaning to read so I can get rid of them.
On the way to the mailbox I notice there are spring flowers starting to peek out the dirt, so I stop to admire them. Remembering why I came outside I get the mail and look to see if anything fun came today. I add the mail to the growing stacks of paper that cover the half wall. Oh look a coffee coupon from Dunkin' Donuts!
The coupon reminds me that I left my coffee cup upstairs and I really want a sip. So up the steps I go, stopping in the girls' room to make sure their light are turn off. While I'm there I may as well open the curtains, and pick up some clothes, and toys. Now I have to remember why I came upstairs. Oh that's right the coffee!
In my room I go over to the bedside table and see my watch, which I had better put in the jewelry tray before it gets lost. I then make my bed, and put away a few of the clothes I left on the side of the tub. It's then that remember I had started laundry and had better empty the dryer.
In the laundry room downstairs, I see that I forgot to shut the lid to the washer so the clothes have just been soaking. I shut the lid and the washer moves on to the spin cycle and since it isn't ready to be emptied, I put the dryer on fluff thinking it will help keep the wrinkles out of the clothes. At this point I look around for my coffee again and trudge back upstairs for it. I'm now tired, it's practically lunch time so I come back to the kitchen, coffee in hand and make some lunch.
There I sit, eating lunch, reading a magazine while catching up with Facebook and possibly some email. When I hear the washer stop I know my time is up and I try desperately to remember where I left off with my cleaning. There have been days that my husband comes home and can list everything I worked on that day. When I ask him how he can possibly know all that he just smiles and says, "I just follow the trail half finished tasks and it tells me everything I need to know."
There you have it! So if you are dating and see many piles or unusual "collections" in your significant other's space, don't say I never told you!
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