I have to admit it, in the past month I've become addicted to craigslist. For those of you living under a rock, it's a local Ebay of sorts. You post a description of your stuff, some pictures and a price and random people show up and cart your junk away. And they PAY you for it!! Brilliant!
I've sold all of the boys clothes I was keeping for boy #3, who turned out to be girl #1. I've sold Halloween costumes that I've kept in a box since '04. I've sold more bedding this week than Pottery Barn.
There is a tremendous amount of relief that comes with letting go. Seeing my boys' clothes carried out my front door fills me with sense of remembering their little bodies in those clothes--the outfit that Pryor was wearing the first time he climbed the slide by himself, the shirt that Will was wearing when he discovered chocolate ice cream (and his sweet tooth). And then the moment is over and I'm back to helping with homework and getting kids ready for soccer practice. Life goes on. Moving out old memory makers to find room for new ones.
My mom cleaned out her basement a few years back and routinely started flooding my basement with things she found in hers: my show choir costume from my freshman year of high school, my prom dresses, my Madame Alexander dolls. While each item holds a memory dear to me, I wasn't at all interested in keeping the physical reminder (but don't worry mom, I haven't sold any of that on craigslist...yet). I have a feeling in a couple of years that items that were so precious to my mom that they were taking up prime real estate in my parents' basement for 20 years will be dress-up costumes torn to shreds by my daughter. And that's okay. Old memory makers finding uses for new ones.
Craig, I don't know who you are, and we will never meet, but I want to thank you for giving me the opportunity to focus on the memory, not the object and provide me with the reminder that it's okay to let things go...
Although, at the rate I am going--my husband and kids are getting nervous that they're next!
A moment of perfection in the chaos.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
The Gates of Hell
Guess how I spent my weekend? Putting up baby gates. Maryn is almost 8-months old, and she is definitely not content with anything that requires any sort of patience or sitting still (she is her mother's daughter!). And, as a third time mom, I am getting just a bit wiser. Pryor and Will hurled themselves down my stairs like Slinky's on a mission before I put up gates in our old house. Each time that happened, the boys were fine and Jim thought that he would have to admit me for hysteria. Thought I would try to avoid that and not push my luck with #3.
And I was excited! There is something inherently wonderful about following directions. Step one leads to step two, and if everything is followed correctly...wah-lah! You have the satisfaction of a job well-done, and something fantastic to show for it. My OCD-ness goes into overdrive when I am in the midst of a project and all is right with the world. I set out to Babies R Us with a "hi-ho" song in my heart.
Two days and three trips to Babies R Us later (one for the original gate, one for a "prettier" version that didn't look like it was keeping out mental patients, and one for a replacement when the pretty version was missing it's instructions and extenders) I was tired, grouchy and just plain fed up with the whole process. I spent 3 hours on Sunday staring at tension rods and extender pieces that did not match the instructions. I was on the brink of a complete breakdown when I realized that pretty gate #2 was missing a tension rod and I was going to have to go to Babies R Us for a fourth time.
After swearing like a drunken sailor and tossing a few random gate pieces down the stairs for effect (drama always makes me feel better), my loving, smart husband--who knows better than to interrupt me when I am in "project zen mode" said one of the best things I had heard all day, "You know those extra pieces that you told me to put back in the other gate before you took it back? Well...I forgot and after you left I threw them in the trash." Sanity saved by negligence!
After graciously digging the extra pieces out of the trash, my husband thoughtfully brought me a well-deserved adult beverage. And after another hour of swearing and belittling inanimate objects (good thing it was a nice day and the boys were outside or I'd have some explaining to do...) the gates were installed. And I have my sense of accomplishment. And my husband is happy he got to watch the football game and not have to go anywhere near an instruction booklet, which he would have promptly thrown away after opening the box. And my sons were spared watching their mother morph into Mommy Hyde. And my daughter doesn't have to become another human Slinky. Life is good.
And I was excited! There is something inherently wonderful about following directions. Step one leads to step two, and if everything is followed correctly...wah-lah! You have the satisfaction of a job well-done, and something fantastic to show for it. My OCD-ness goes into overdrive when I am in the midst of a project and all is right with the world. I set out to Babies R Us with a "hi-ho" song in my heart.
Two days and three trips to Babies R Us later (one for the original gate, one for a "prettier" version that didn't look like it was keeping out mental patients, and one for a replacement when the pretty version was missing it's instructions and extenders) I was tired, grouchy and just plain fed up with the whole process. I spent 3 hours on Sunday staring at tension rods and extender pieces that did not match the instructions. I was on the brink of a complete breakdown when I realized that pretty gate #2 was missing a tension rod and I was going to have to go to Babies R Us for a fourth time.
After swearing like a drunken sailor and tossing a few random gate pieces down the stairs for effect (drama always makes me feel better), my loving, smart husband--who knows better than to interrupt me when I am in "project zen mode" said one of the best things I had heard all day, "You know those extra pieces that you told me to put back in the other gate before you took it back? Well...I forgot and after you left I threw them in the trash." Sanity saved by negligence!
After graciously digging the extra pieces out of the trash, my husband thoughtfully brought me a well-deserved adult beverage. And after another hour of swearing and belittling inanimate objects (good thing it was a nice day and the boys were outside or I'd have some explaining to do...) the gates were installed. And I have my sense of accomplishment. And my husband is happy he got to watch the football game and not have to go anywhere near an instruction booklet, which he would have promptly thrown away after opening the box. And my sons were spared watching their mother morph into Mommy Hyde. And my daughter doesn't have to become another human Slinky. Life is good.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Holy Cow--I just started a blog!
I have been thinking for a while about starting a blog. As my Facebook statuses got longer and more and more people seemed to be connecting with what I was experiencing, it seemed only natural to want to give my ramblings a little more space.
So...here we are. Why "Perfection in the Chaos?" Beacause I am the classic Type-A personality. Schedules, appointments, systems are what I crave. Always on an endless quest for better, for more, for having it all--for thinking that this crazy idea is even possible. As a working mom of 3 kids, this goal of perfection is about as attainable as a good night's sleep. The chaos of my everyday seems to get in the way of anything resembling structure.
And yet--the chaos is what I live for. The chaos is my kids, my two boys and little girl who constantly remind me that life is good. The chaos is my husband, who I couldn't live without. The chaos is my constant effort to make sense out of the madness of fitting 36 hours worth of activity into a 24-hour day. The chaos is realizing that it's not what you do but how you do it that makes the difference. The chaos is God tugging on my heart and whispering in my ear that not everything wonderful, real and true fits into a schedule...
So, here we are...welcome to the chaos!
So...here we are. Why "Perfection in the Chaos?" Beacause I am the classic Type-A personality. Schedules, appointments, systems are what I crave. Always on an endless quest for better, for more, for having it all--for thinking that this crazy idea is even possible. As a working mom of 3 kids, this goal of perfection is about as attainable as a good night's sleep. The chaos of my everyday seems to get in the way of anything resembling structure.
And yet--the chaos is what I live for. The chaos is my kids, my two boys and little girl who constantly remind me that life is good. The chaos is my husband, who I couldn't live without. The chaos is my constant effort to make sense out of the madness of fitting 36 hours worth of activity into a 24-hour day. The chaos is realizing that it's not what you do but how you do it that makes the difference. The chaos is God tugging on my heart and whispering in my ear that not everything wonderful, real and true fits into a schedule...
So, here we are...welcome to the chaos!
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