“If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.”
“Messy desk, messy mind.”
“A place for everything, and everything in its place.”
If I’ve said things once I’ve probably said them a thousand times. (I tell you the following things not to brag but to help you understand the impact of what I will reveal to you later.) I am an extremely organized person. I like having a process/system, a plan, for things to be neat, put away, organized. When I hear someone say, in reference to planning something, “Oh don’t worry, it will all work out,” I break out in a cold sweat because it never just “all works out”. I am often asked how I keep track of everything that goes on with my kids, husband, and dogs. I have been offered money to organize my friends and acquaintances homes (my family gets me to do it for free). People are forever saying to me, “You’re so organized! Your house must be immaculate! I bet your kids never lose anything!” So now that you are aware of my reputation, I shall reveal my secret.
My house is messy.
It is my secret shame. Why is my house messy when there is a place for everything? It is because not everything is in its place. The backpacks and briefcase never make to the hook in the mud room. The lunch bags never get in the bin in the kitchen (this is really bad over a school holiday when a science experiment grows in it). The coats/hats/gloves do not make it to their home in the closet (they seem to prefer to lounge on the dining room floor). We run out of milk, mayo, paper towels because DH/the girls don’t write it on the board when they use the second to last (or even the last) of an item. Clean uniforms never quite make it to the dresser (they seem land on the floor next to it). The dirty laundry never quite makes it to the mud room on Sunday afternoon. Swim bags and dance bags are seldom packed the night before those activities. We have to hunt for DH’s keys/wallet/badge at least weekly because they don’t make it into his assigned basket. Homework/library books are often found strewn about the house instead of in the backpacks.
Why don’t I just pick it up, pack it up, clean it up, put it all away? Why don’t I save myself the aggravation of telling them all, repeatedly, to deal with their crap, to follow the system? Why don’t I just take care of everything and everyone in this house?
Well because, contrary to what my children and husband seem to believe; there are only 24 hours in a day and I am not Wonder Woman (I don’t know about wearing that outfit, but I dig the jet). Also, I feel like it would be unfair to them to just “do it” for them. I feel like I would be shortchanging them by not letting them learn to be organized, to plan. DH may be a lost cause, he’s an adult and for no older than he is, he’s rather set in his ways. I still hold out hope for my children. I hope that they will learn something about being organized and planning out how to do things. I hold out hope that none of them will end up on an episode of “Hoarders”. Perhaps someday they will appreciate what I’m trying to do for them.
I’m going to assume that “someday” will come when they trip over a backpack (because they couldn’t see it over the two bags of groceries they are carrying), falling, breaking the carton of eggs, and spilling the bag of popcorn kernels that were in the bags.