Mom On A Mission
By Cheryl Gochnauer
Do you ever feel like queen of your castle? After years of working forsomebody else, I like the perk of having time to polish my own 1400 squarefoot domain. It may not be the Taj Mahal, but it's mine. Well, mine andthe bank's.
Anyway, now that I get to spend my days here instead of at the office, I'vehad time to explore every corner, and I've discovered that I like keeping atidy house. Don't worry; I'm not perfect. But like my high-maintenancehero in When Harry Met Sally, I know what I want, and I'm not afraid to askfor it.
I want a clutter-free house. Toy-strewn bath and shower stalls bug me asmuch as over-stuffed file cabinets used to. Along the same lines, though Imay have bought them at thrift stores or clearance sales, I like clothesthat match, and furniture that fits. Every so often, I take a critical walkdown the halls and through the rooms. Lights pop on in closets and thebasement bares its secreted junk. Peeking under beds and over railings,out-of-place and under-used items are illuminated by my analyticalhigh-beams.
My daughters sense a garage sale looming, and suddenly toys they haveignored for months become precious. You would not believe the tugs-of-warI've gotten into over ratty old blankets and dresses two sizes too small.
"Look - it still fits!" Karen models her favorite high-water jeans with thetop button undone. Desperately she rallies support for its matching shirt.".And if I pull down the sleeves and hold my arms like this.. Mom! I wantthat!"
I'm getting smarter. Most of the time, I do my dirty work while the kidsare away. Like the sticky-fingered Grinch, I silently stalk toy boxes andlaundry baskets. This works really well. It may be years before one of themturns around and says, "Didn't I used to have.. Mom!"
I have no regrets.
You just have to have a plan. For instance, take disposing of tatteredartwork that has languished in a discarded backpack for six months. Shakeoff the old cookie crumbs, then bury the picture deep in a black trash bag.Don't trust those thin bags you can see through. If you do, the piece willcome back to haunt you, plucked from oblivion as a now spaghetti-splatteredwork of art, magneted back in its hallowed spot on the refrigerator door.
I especially enjoy getting rid of those games with 1,001 pieces. I don'tthink there is any real object to those games, except to scatter the piecesand leave. Territory markers, that's what they are. Well, this is myterritory and there are no squatters allowed! Into the garage sale box theygo. Believe it or not, the kids usually don't realize the game is goneuntil they see it out on the driveway with a sticker on it.
Another note: Send the kids to Grandma's on garage sale day. Otherwise,they'll be chasing cars like schnauzers and half your inventory will end upin a reverent pile in the middle your child's bed.
The perfect solution for kiddy clutter? Sell it to a neighbor withyoungsters near the same age as yours. That way, your children can go overto their house, scatter the pieces, and then come home. Both you and yourkids are happy!
As a seasoned mother and unmuddler, I stand behind the advice given above.I've only been burned on this system once. There was this stuffed animal,you see, who had been lying in a haphazard heap in the corner one month toolong. It was whisked away during one of my whirlwind tours, and tagged tosell. When Little Red realized her Ballerina Bear had a new home, there wasa scene I could have sold movie rights for.
I guess I should have let that bear gather another year's worth of dust.Instead, I unwittingly gave my daughter and a future support group somethingto talk about.
But, HEY - my house looks great!
(Comments?
cheryl@homebodies.org
or visit her website at
www.homebodies.org
. Copyright 2001 Homebodies.Org, LLC. Permission granted for use on DrLaura.com)
