The Cost of Clutter

Many times I have read self help information aimed at getting me to cut my clutter. Oftentimes they claim that de-cluttering will save time and money. Saving time I can sure understand. But money? I never have made the connection as to how my clutter, innocently piled up at the bottom of my closet, is costing me anything...that is, until today.

Recently I found that I could no longer close my closet door due to the large pile of miscellaneous stuff that has been growing there. With an extra day off to kill and no gas money to go anywhere I decided to attack the pile. Armed with garbage bags and a gritty determination to NOT save anything for a garage sale, I began my quest.

Pulling out piles of clothes and sorting through them I began to see a few things about myself. One thing I realized is I see value in everything. That's a good quality for a tightwad, but it can be over done.

The poorest person in America can have a wealth of free clothing just for asking - do I really need to save my super worn out, holey and stained T-shirt for charity? And yes, I already have enough cleaning rags. I tossed the T-shirt.

I also realized that because I see value in everything, I am reluctant to let anything go without getting some compensation. That dooms me to piles of clothes in my closet that will someday go to my big garage sale where I will make a million dollars from selling my valuable, super worn out, holey and stained T-shirts. It made sense until I thought about it.

The final thing I realized is that I am so busy seeing the value in holey T-shirts that I miss real money issues. For example, I just went out this week and spent $10 on a pair of denim shorts because it has been very hot and I wanted them that afternoon.

This afternoon I uncovered a stack of at least 10 pairs of nice denim shorts in my closet. Suddenly I remembered someone giving them to me last Fall. They have spent the winter languishing under piles of clutter until I forgot they existed. I had just spent $10 for nothing. My firsthand lesson in how clutter costs.

I also recently bought a pair of sport shorts so that I could ride my bicycle more. There in my closet was the exact same pair of shorts purchased last year. I wanted to scream with frustration; not only did I waste more money due to a cluttered closet but I realized I must be pretty boring to buy the exact same pair of shorts a year later.

Losing money always wakes me up, and I took the lessons to heart. I pulled seven bags out of two closets to give away, with even more going straight to the garbage. I quit on the mythical garage sale and the thought that someday we might need half a dozen T-shirt rags.

As a reward I now have a nice clean closet with everything in clear view. Shorts, capris and shirts are stacked in efficient rows. Gift bags (free from CVS, of course;), my emergency present box and my change pot are all within reach. Tomorrow I will shave 20 minutes off my getting ready time because I won't have to look for socks.

Organization feels good, looks good and is good for my wallet. Now if only I can keep it that way! How do you handle clutter? Leave a comment!

Turning Straw Into Gold

Marriage comes with certain expectations. Whether you went for the fairytale wedding or, like me, just decided to cut out the middleman and elope with Prince Charming, we all had somewhat of a preconceived notion of what marriage would be like.

Some of us wake up one day and wonder what happened to the all the roses and champagne. Others marvel at the fact that Prince Charming leaves gross, sweaty socks on the floor of the bathroom every night. Even if your handsome prince picks up his dirty clothes by himself, like me, you might wonder what Cinderella looked like after four kids and no time to work out.

Married life has its challenges. Sometimes I feel like the peasant girl who was locked in a room full of straw and told to make gold by morning. I imagine her face in the dark of the night, pondering the piles of straw and wondering how on earth she was going to get through this. I’ve worn the same expression, standing in my laundry room at night, pondering piles of clothes I had forgotten to wash earlier and wondering how on earth I’m going to get through this.

For me, though, I know there will be no Rumplestiltskin to pop in and do the task for me in exchange for a ring. The task is mine alone, but somehow I always get through it easier than I expected. By the next morning, the laundry will be washed and hung and I can wake up feeling proud of the accomplishment that hours before seemed impossible.

In a way, we are like fairy tale heroines with bite. Like Cinderella, we have slaved away preparing our houses for birthday parties as well as balls. Like Repunzel, we have sat isolated in our bowers when no understood how hard it is to be mom. Like Sleeping Beauty, we have felt tired enough to sleep for a century.

The difference is, in our stories we are independent. We are rescuing knight and damsel in distress all rolled into one. We must clean our house sans fairy Godmother, climb out of our bowers on our own and resist exhaustion until at least after the kids are in bed.

As modern day spouses we gather up whatever life gives us, ponder the possibilities, and set to work. Late hours, laundry, dishes and homework pile around us and become our raw materials. These mundane details whirl around us turning days into weeks, weeks into years.

The hectic preparations that make us crazy turn soccer games and school plays into gems that stand out from other moments. Each success and trial, through our efforts, becomes a jewel to place in the family treasury. We struggle along, feeling like there is never enough time, but it is time that turns the moments we rush through into gold.

We gather the moments to ourselves as we live and forge priceless memories and family tradition from them; the result becomes treasure for our children. With no fairy godmother we make magic. We do the impossible with every day. We spin straw into gold.

Work Only A Mother Could Love

Ages ago (I won’t specify how many) in my fifth grade class I was once given an assignment to draw my future self in my ideal career. I set to work with my Crayolas on a large piece of Manila paper and drew a mom. I wasn’t thinking about pay scales or women’s equality at the time. I just knew I wanted to have the most important job in the world. Carefully I printed the word “Mother” at the top of my drawing in purple crayon.

I had read the entire series of Little House on the Prairie books so many times that the pages had begun to separate from their bindings. I knew mothers had a sort of magic that could turn terrible days into wonderful ones. Mothers had innate psychic powers that allowed them to know when you were fibbing and when you were thinking about misdeeds. Next to God, I was certain, were mothers. They could be as frightening as thunderstorms when you deserved it, and as refreshing as a rain soaked meadow when all was forgiven.

Sometimes I would dream about when I would get to take my honored place as a mother. Scores of beautiful, well-behaved children in white pinafores would be gathered around me, faces shining with adoration. I would glide among them, a beneficial queen, kissing boo boos and helping out with homework. When I finally had my first child, she was everything I had expected. Perfect and sweet, she lay like a miniature angel in my arms, and I was the epitome of motherhood. Then reality kicked in.

Reality found me fumbling with diaper pins at three in the morning wearing sweats that needed to be washed and hair that would have turned Medusa into stone. I found out that I wasn’t as patient as I had thought and that white pinafores were a horrible way to dress children. I went from maternal queen to grimy servant in less time than it took me to hit puberty. I threw out my Little House books and dug in for a long battle against perpetual sticky spots, stains and all things stinky.

By the time my third child came along I had learned a few tricks and could pass myself off as fairly capable. I knew which brand of sippy cups really were no-leak when turned upside down, to never put soda in a sippy cup and to avoid purple grape juice like the plague. I found out how many times I could sing Mister Golden Sun while dozing off and that Oreo cookies still taste pretty good after someone else scraped all the middle out.
Nature had to throw me for a loop, though, and gave me a boy the third time. Just when I had gotten it somewhat together, all the rules changed.

Boys, at least mine, are definitely different from girls. Their noses need more wiping, their clothes seem to stain quicker and there are always raspberry noises coming from some part of their body. My third son taught me that not only can any sippy cup leak, but it also makes a pretty good missile on boring car trips. The Power Ranger’s theme eclipsed Mister Golden Sun in my impromptu late night concerts and I gave up on Oreos after cleaning them out of the carpet for the hundredth time.

Sometimes, four children later, I wonder what I was thinking all those years ago when I wrote “Mother” as my career choice. The hours are terrible, the work is unsanitary and some days I’m not even sure who the boss is. I’m still wondering if I have vacation days accrued and if I’m earning overtime and hazardous duty pay. Wait – am I even getting paid for this?

The perfect housekeeping diva I was supposed to become has never materialized for me. As for the scores of children I was destined for, I’m throwing in the towel after four. This has got to be the hardest and most discouraging job I have ever had, and that includes being a dishwasher at a rat and roach infested tavern. But for all that, I wouldn’t trade a minute of my maternal mishaps for any other job.

I’ve grown a lot since those early idealistic days before momhood hit me like Tonka truck. The spills, crumbs and broken knick knacks has taught me that being a mother isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being there. I have been gifted with four energetic, independent and curious souls to try to guide into productive, happy adulthood. I’m less a queen of the house and more of a steward trying to manage all I’ve been blessed with. Indeed, my cup runneth over, but I no longer mind wiping up the mess.

Next to God, I’m still certain, are mothers. Whether male or female, biological moms or adopted, motherhood is the ultimate philanthropic work. Moms heal the sick, feed the hungry, and clothe the naked, working miracles in their own way. It’s work only a mother could love, and love is the only way it can work.

Superwoman Sleeps

The Infamous Proverbs 31 Woman. She is my inspiration and my nemesis. How many times have I sought to be like her only to fall short like a sack of potatoes at the long jump. How many times have I wondered, how does she do it all? Like in verse 15...

She gets up while it is still dark;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her servant girls.

But when you get down to verse 18 it says...

She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.

This woman isn't human! She stays up late and gets up before dawn? I've tried that time and again in my quest to be the perfect Biblical wife and this always becomes a stumbling block for me. I can do it for a few days, but after three days (ask my family;) I'm done and ready to be committed to the Home for Biblical Failures. I am tired, crabby and open for attack.

After years of me trying to burn my candle at both ends I think He has finally given me an insight that allows me to go to bed at a good time without feeling guilty that I'm not living up to Mama Lemuel's standards (thankfully my own mother in law is much more relaxed - thanks Mom! ;)

One night I was pulling the old "Late to bed, early to rise makes me productive and eventually fried" routine. Everyone else was fast asleep and I was tired myself, but as the Mighty Proverbs 31 Wannabe Woman I was pushing on.

I was also trying to "watch over the affairs of my household" by saving electricity so I had turned off all the lights but the night lights. Walking through a dimly lit room I repeated the phrase "and her lamp does not go out at night" to myself as my inspirational mantra to stay up just a little longer. "How did she do it, Lord?" I asked Him for the millionth time.

"Why do you burn a nightlight?" He asked.

"So that I can always be ready to jump up if something happens during the night." I answered.

"So did she."

Like a lightening bolt illuminating a stormy night my brain lit up with comprehension. It doesn't say anywhere in Proverbs 31 that she stayed up all night, or didn't sleep. It only says that her lamp doesn't go out. She was always at the ready, like any good household manager, but in the meantime she was probably sensibly resting up for another productive and happy day!

No wonder her children could arise up and call her blessed. She was rested.

Now, of course, I've gone to bed early every night and woken up before dawn to jumpstart my day with a smile and a flourish... or at least that's the plan. Actually, I'm so accustomed to crowding "just one more thing" into my evenings that I still get to bed later then I'd like. I am doing better, however. Instead of going to bed at 2 am I am hitting the sack around midnight.
Every great now and then I actually go to bed by 9:00pm (my goal). The next morning I am always up early, cheerful and bright and the day that follows is always full of blessing and joy. If I can only remember...

Oops! Speaking of, it's already past my bedtime. Let me know what you think of the Proverb 31 Woman's sleeping habits compared to your own. In the meantime.... G'night!

Operation Clean Sink #3 & #4...

Guilty confession... again?

I fell off the bandwagon last night and went to bed with dishes undone again. I'm sure some of you noticed that no sink photo went up last night. Now you know why. So, true to my word, here's the photo...

Not as bad as before, at least. If you're interested in excuses (few people are;) I was really sick, it was Friday night and I wound up going to bed at 6:00pm. I woke up later to do a little bloggy work, but then went back to bed, dishes undone. Guilty as charged.

____________________________________________________________

Next exhibit:

Tonight's dishes. Actually, everything in the sink was clean except hubby knocked it all down and accidently poured chicken grease on them.

Technically, as far as I'm concerned, they count as clean. Just 'greasy clean' instead of 'squeaky clean'. I will rewash them tomorrow.

If this shocks and disappoints you, you might want to go to Martha Stewart's blog instead. It states that it's Martha "up close and personal." I've got her beat there. You never see her dirty dishes. That's personal.

Operation clean Sink, Day #2

Operation Clean Sink
Okay... there are a few dishes in the sink. It's not perfect, but I'm going to bed anyways. I have a bad cold and have been working and running kids around all day. The cups can stay. I do feel guilty, but the cups are staying anyway.

My Dirty Little Secret

Okay, true confessions time. I'd rather blog than wash my dishes.

Right now, as I happily tap away to you, my breakfast and dinner dishes are piled up waiting for me. I think some of last night's dinner dishes may be lurking in there also. I know this sounds horrible, but I'm seriously thinking about just surfing for a little while longer and then going to bed...without doing the dishes!

I know some of you are horrified, and I'm sure to lose readers do to my sudden 'coming out of the cupboard', but I value honesty and I must come completely clean with you (except for, of course, the dishes.) I hate doing dishes, always have. I love cooking and otherwise piddling around in the kitchen, but dishes stink.

Unfortunately, leaving my dirty dishes presents me with a few issues;

With a sink full of dishes from the get go, I probably won't be able to make lunches before I go to work. The kids will get hot lunch at $7.40 (that's for 3 kids, two of which always get seconds) My husband will also get lunch out for another $6 - $10. I will also be hungry and I will probably buy lunch myself for $2.20. Right off the bat, my dirty dishes will cost me $16.60! Ouch!

After school the kids will still be hungry, and so will I. We will pass a Subway, McDonald's, Burger King, Sonic, Starbucks, and Asian drive thru. They will all look incredibly tasty and cheap as we drive past them. I will probably be convinced to stop and drop around $25 in one of them, bringing our total to $41.60. Double ouch!

Then, after we're home I will look at the pile of dishes and feel overwhelmed. Instead of washing, I will get involved in homework, filling out fundraiser forms and agreeing to donate blood. The dishes will sit, except now they are no longer dormant... with each sip of water and discarded snack plate the dish mound will grow...and grow! About then dear hubby will call and ask if we need anything on the way home. I'll ask him to pick up a pizza for $8 each from Sam's Club He'll get 2 for $16. Grand total for the day of dirty dishes? $57.60!

This sounds like a lot to spend in one day, but this is actually a pretty normal, dishes-not-done kind of day. Trust me; this is one of my areas of expertise. It seems silly to clip coupons to save $10 on groceries (my meager savings for today's trip) when I'm spending $57.60 because my kitchen is messy. So, my belated New Year's goal is to always have a clean sink. And you all are going to help me. No, my plan doesn't involve you washing my dishes for me.

They say it takes 21 days for a new habit to become established. For the next 21 days I am going to post a photo of my sink every night so you all can see it. I invite you to comment with constructive criticism and encouragement. Of course I'm not going to want the blogosphere to see my messy kitchen, so I better get in there and clean it. See where I'm going with this?

I've been washing dishes, and in 15 minutes look at all I accomplished! I'm nearly done already!

Twenty minutes later and I am finished with wiped counters and ready to enjoy a cup of tea. I feel good, and I know tomorrow will be pleasant because the heart of our home is clean. And, in only 35 minutes I saved $57.60, no clipping required. So here's a photo of the finished product and my first photo for Operation Clean Sink...

Shoot! There's my unwashed tea cup!