If God Doesn't Make No Junk, How Come My House Was Full of It?

I've heard it said that to make room for new in your life, you must get rid of the old. Well, if that's true, I've got a whole lot of new coming my way.

Remember that show Clean Sweep, where the crew would completely clean out 2 rooms of a home, redesign, redecorate, and re-enter only those items absolutely necessary to the space? Well, imagine doing that to 14 rooms plus a garage and an attic. And all the stuff has to re-enter half as many, smaller rooms. Sound impossible? Well, it nearly was. In fact, the process is currently ongoing, so I'll let you know if it can actually be done.

I always wondered why the homeowners in the Clean Sweep episodes cried at the finished product. Now I know why. Downsizing is physically, mentally, and emotionally draining. Imagine looking at every little tiny thing in your dwelling and making a decision as to whether or not it is important enough to make the cut. Every postage stamp, kid art, wine glass, candle, blanket, and even pet must be considered. The bottom line is that I've made more decisions in the last 2 months than I have in the rest of my living years put together. I can only hope I made the right ones. In the end, the overwhelming conclusion is that I have too much stuff. We all have too much stuff. And when the place you put the stuff in is too big, you have stuff you don't even know you have. For example:

The fact that we could never find a pair of scissors for any of those Sunday night projects that the kids had 3 weeks to do, but put it off until the night before resulted in the purchase of 8 pairs of scissors that would one-by-one disappear into the 7 junk drawers located throughout our 5 bedrooms and 3 baths.

The fact that we could also never find sharpies, pencils, colored pencils, and pens during those panicked moments resulted in 2 shoe boxes FULL of writing utensils moved to the new place. We should never be at a loss for pens again. No junk drawers here.

Not sure how this one happened, but I think it has something to do with the excessively tall kitchen cabinets in the old place and my 5'3" frame. Three unopened bags of flour made the move. Now I know I like to bake, but three? Geesh! Before I started packing, I didn't know I had even one!

And finally--two laundry baskets full of socks--and not the fancy schmancy $15 socks that all the 14yr old boys are wearing now. We're talking men's tube socks from the ex-husband who left like 5 years ago, socks with holes, socks with no elastic, funky mismatched socks, and a few matching, decent running socks thrown in. Really? Who in the world needs all those socks? By the way, just so you know I'm not a complete crazy hoarder, the socks did not make the cut!

As telling as the emptying of the junk drawers and pantry is, I don't think that's why the Clean Sweep homeowners cried. I think it was the letting go of the emotional burden that brought on the tears. Hanging on to the possibility of finding that matching sock and the knowledge of the existence of scissors you can't seem to get your hands on is emotionally burdensome. It's like hanging on to the possibility that your past heartaches were only in your imagination. Sweeping clean a house that holds the memories of a lifetime, choosing the ones that make the cut, that you will carry with you into the future, purges not only junk drawers in the home, but also in the heart. And it makes room for something new.

Roaring Mom, Heal Thyself

I've decided to stop giving myself a heart attack.

You know the old joke that goes something like this: A man goes into his doctor's office and says, "Doc, it hurts when I bend my elbow like this." The doctor answers, "Don't bend your elbow like that."

Ok, so it's not really funny or even very clever. But we all laugh at it anyway because of the simple honest irony. We laugh because under that simply irony is the understanding that most of the time we really do cause our own problems.

Don't balk! It's true. Here's a shining example.

Walking through the living room, I notice the overflowing clutter on the coffee table, the shoe collection under the coffee table and the discarded sweatshirts on the couch. So starts the perfectly punctuated nag. "Wouldn't it be nice to live in house where we wouldn't have to be embarrassed if someone comes to the door unexpectedly? How hard it is to pick up your own crap? What makes you guys think this is the dropping ground for all your stuff. You go to your bedroom at some point during the day, why not take this stuff with you? I swear you were more self-sufficient when you were 4 years old! Will you PLEASE pick up this room!" (Or something to that lovely effect.)

In come the clutter culprits, they pick up their things and leave...they leave a still overcrowded coffee table, a mildly edited shoe collection and something stick out from the sofa cushion.

I summon my Emphatic Voice. "Did you not hear me? Seriously guys!"

Frank appears, unflappable as always. "Mom, the rest of the stuff is yours."

Wow. That was embarrassing! I was so busy focusing on the annoyance of the situation, I forgot to focus on the cause--and the solution. I forgot to look in the mirror.

Lesson learned. Now let's hope I can successfully apply it because when I do look in the mirror--the actual mirror--I don't like what I see. And I don't particularly like how I feel. What I would like to see is currently covered by 30 pounds of too much me. Accompanying the 30 pound problem I've caused myself is  a potential heart attack, high blood pressure and possible stroke, plausible Diabetes and probably Osteoporosis. As a bonus gift, I've included a closet full of clothes that don't fit and unflattering family photos. And just think--I have only myself to thank!

So how about I do just that? How about I give myself something to "thank" about and the mirror something to smile about. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got my own problem to solve.

How do you need to heal yourself? Don't worry. Obviously, you are not alone.

You Like It!

My kids have been placed under house arrest. At least that's what they think.

This is the first full week of summer break and I have an agenda. We are clean-sweeping the house from top to bottom. My kids aren't used to such a rigorous schedule. They think they are being punished for some long-forgotten wrong. Amid all the howling complaints of "It's not fair!" and "How come we have to?" and "Don't touch my stuff!"--we have actually found the floors of 4 out of the 5 bedrooms. We've discovered unopened puzzle boxes and unread books and unworn clothes--all that at one time were must-haves!!

And I've discovered something else, too. I've learned that my children are spoiled. And it's completely my fault. I haven't been able to find that button that gets them to put away, clean up, or organize on their own or with constant mom-prodding (otherwise known as nagging). Except for Sophie. But she got the over-achieving gene mutation, so she doesn't count.

Actually, it just occurred to me that that gene mutation must come with a sister-prodding button. On Tuesday she somehow managed to keep Frank in his room for more than four hours. When they emerged--Frank appearing to have barely survived Armageddon--every Lego was in it's color-coded bin, each Star Wars figure was standing at attention on the proper shelf, and every single dirty sock had found the hamper.

How does she do it? She's just the sister, but she convinces them to partake in activity that this Roaring Mom couldn't coerce them into for all the light sabers in Coruscant (the Jedi home Planet, for those of you w/o 11 year old sons).

I've given this a lot of thought and I think if reincarnation exists, I'd like to come back as a little old Asian lady in the next life. And here's why:

You know when you walk into a nail salon for only a manicure. That's it. One manicure. That's all you have time for. That's all you have money for. One manicure. And the little old Asian lady says they can get you in right away. And 20 minutes later, they finally have a pedicure chair ready for you so you can get your toes done while you are waiting for the manicure station to open up. Two hours later you leave with bejeweled flowers on each toe and French acrylic nails. After all, "You like it" and "It's only two dollar."

Little old Asian ladies can get anybody to do anything AND get paid for it. AND never once make you feel like you are on house arrest!

Which makes me curious about Sophie. I guess I'm gonna have to do some family tree research. We've gotta have a little Asian in us somewhere. That would explain a lot.

A Clean Start

I watched the show Hoarders the other night and it scared the crap out of me. And by crap I mean clutter.

Confession: I'm disorganized. I know this. I also hate this about myself. Every single day I search for something I have misplaced.

It's time to walk out the door. Damn! Where are my keys? In my purse. Where is my purse? With my coat. Where is my coat? I finally find all that but now, of course, I'm late. Now, where is that map I printed out of the place I'm going?

It's my own fault. I know this, too. I don't put things away when I should and so they pile up. Then, when I need that space, such as the top of the kitchen table so that we can eat dinner, I move the pile. I will go through it at another time. But here's the kicker--another time never presents itself. But another pile does. And another.

I think this is how hoarders start.

The piles and piles aren't just piles of stuff. They are piles of intentions. If I toss it all without even sorting through it, haven't I failed because I never actually accomplished what I intended to do? With those discarded piles I'll be throwing away even the mere opportunity to fulfill the intention.

But it's a new year. Time for a new perspective. So I've chosen to understand that with those discarded piles I'll be throwing away the mounds of failure I have associated with them.

Do you know how much 3 bags of shredded paper and 5 boxes of books and 3 loads of donations weigh? As I extract all that from my office, up the stairs, and out of my house I noticed the weight of it. It's heavy! It's difficult to move when I'm carrying so much. Then I think, no wonder I felt, at times, as if I were slogging through life during the last 2 years. Look at the baggage I created for myself.

And now that's it's gone, look at the space I've created for myself. Space to think, to feel, to live. My office and my life are now full of potential rather than self-defeating clutter. It feels pretty good.

I grab my keys, my purse, and my coat and head out the door. I don't need a map. I know exactly where I'm going.

Where are you headed in 2010? What do you need to do to get out of your own way to make sure you get there?