(Under the) Bed Inventory

Tonight I banished my family from the house so I could clean.  It’s that bad.

As I was wrapping up my five minutes in Bubba’s room (check here for some unsolicited cleaning advice), I decided to check under his bed.

BIG MISTAKE.  Yikes.

So as I literally raked stuff out from under his bed, I couldn’t help but think of memories of this day, almost 2 years ago exactly.  The bathroom scale?  Really??

Lest Bubba may feel left out one day without his own bed inventory, here ya go:

My favorite pair of maroon flats that are too painful to wear all day at school.
A singing Eric Carle book.
Four juggling balls made on Craft with Daddy day.
A real baseball.
Jake and the Neverland Pirates flashcards that I thought I had discarded.
A cork.
Two of Chica’s socks and one of Bubba’s.  None matching.
A string.
A Kohl’s $2.20 price tag.
Twelve wooden blocks.
A wipes box.
Sunglasses that fit no member of our family.
A pink fireman’s hat.
My old flip phone.
Bubba’s name tag from the church nursery.
A walking chick.
A reminder to, “Brush your teeth,” that probably no one followed that day.
Two gummy wrappers.
Pieces from a dish that Bubba threw against the wall and broke one day during a tantrum.
A lion.
A duck.
Brown Bear.
A bubble blower.
Olivia’s car.
Various drill bits.
A whistle.
The Magna Doodle triangle that cannot stay with that toy to save anyone’s life.
Some strange McDonald’s toy.
Two marbles.
A dime.
A bead.
A car from IKEA (which happens to be one of my top 5 favorite toys ever).
And an eyeball.

_MG_3767You better bet I’m not making that mistake again during the five minutes in my room.  Ha.

P.S.  You know how you get that place in the middle of your back where you can’t reach an itch?  There’s that same kind of unreachable spot in the middle of a bed that’s on carpet and won’t slide.  There’s more to this list, but it’s staying put for now.  Oh well.

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From Two Thousand to Four

I did it.  It’s past 12:00 and my eyes are straining to focus, but I did it.  I cleaned out my inbox of over 2,000 old e-mails.  There are four left:  the teacher workday schedule for the next few days, two e-mails I need to return but am not ready to compose, and a “don’t forget to look into this cool opportunity” reminder.  Phew.

I’m excited to say that this purging of stuff hasn’t been limited to my inbox.  I’ve spent the last three days at school working on clearing out space in my classroom.  My filing cabinet, closet, bookshelves, and cabinet all now have that fresh, organized look that I seem capable of only maintaining for a few weeks at best.  I still have my desk, sink cabinet, and a few (huge) boxes of papers to go, but the hard work has already been done.  I…no….we got this.  Being ruled by peace over here.

I have many things to say tonight about organization and creativity and friends and writing and my little family and, and, and.  But it’s late, and everything’s a bit fuzzy, so I’m just not sure I can articulate anything more than this….

I was struck as I read the subject and first line of each e-mail tonight how memories almost forgotten flooded back to me:

A hurricane.  A school shooting.  The death of a dear friend.  Congratulations for a contest won.  Struggles with students that ended with thankful e-mails from parents.  Room moms from heaven.  A huge project with an old friend. The green light to try a new and crazy strategy.  I need a sub…my kid is sick again.  I am one of the only five people that hasn’t turned something in…again.    And meeting after meeting after meeting.

So what did I learn from those memories?  I’ve sat here waiting for the last five sleepy minutes or so just trying to figure that out.  I think maybe I’ve got it.

When I was a kid, or maybe a teenager, and I would get overly stressed out about some assignment, my mom would always ask me something like, “In five years, will this matter?  If the answer is no, then don’t worry about it.  Get it done, but don’t obsess over it.”

As I recalled many of those memories, I felt again the panic that was such a part of the moment.  Unnecessary panic, I see now, because even just six months later, that thing, whatever it was, already doesn’t matter.

I’ve said it already, but I’m just going to keep speaking it and writing it and praying it.  This year will be different.  This year I plan to trade the panic for a focus on the things above.  A view of the stuff that will matter in six months.  In five years. 

Did my students see a peaceful, Christ-like attitude?
Did my students hear me apologize when it wasn’t so Christ-like?
Did they know that I believe they are capable and important and unique?
Did they come away loving learning and with more questions than they had when they arrived?

These last three days I’ve thrown out over 2,000 e-mails, 5 trashcans full of junk, 4 crates of paper to recycle, and a whole counter full of teacher stuff in my, “Free, Take Me,” pile.  You know teachers just pass around each other’s junk, right?  It takes a long time for stuff to actually make it to the dumpster!

But I have some more to throw away, I realize.  And no, I don’t mean recycle or the Take Me table…because you don’t need it either!

So tonight I continue to purge:
Worry.  Panic.  Frenzy.  Impatience.  Disorder.  Insecurity.  Anger.  Hurry.

More room for peace that way.

 

 

 

 

Advice from a House (Un)Keeper

You know how some people are binge dieters?   I’ve decided that I’m a binge house cleaner.

I don’t clean with any regularity.  Actually, to be totally honest, I don’t even pick our junk up with any regularity.  I just let it collect and pile and swarm until I can’t take it anymore, and only then do I clean it up.  But since the piles and the swarms have such a long time to collect between my attacks on them, I have to wait until I have lots of free time to  make it happen.

So consequently I am spending this day, the first day of Christmas break, not decorating my tree or making hot chocolate or wrapping presents.  No, I’m spending it cleaning.  I sent Bubba to school and I’ve told a flabbergasted Chica she can watch movies all day if she wants.  I think she thinks some other mother has taken over my body for that comment.  We’re on the fourth showing of Over the Hedge, and it’s only 10 a.m.

So as I flitted around my house this morning getting started, I started thinking about the best practices of a binge cleaner.  I haven’t looked, but I’m sure there are a gazillion plans for binge diets out there on the Internet.  I’m just guessing that there’s not as much useful information about binge cleaning, so maybe the world could benefit from my expertise in this area.  So here you are…

  1. Get everyone else out of the way.   There’s already enough stuff on the floor (and the tables, and the counters, and the shelves).  You don’t need extra people around getting in the way and making more mess.  Nor do you need them huffing and puffing at you for letting it get this bad or questioning your cleaning tactics.  So make them leave, or banish them to one room.  I honestly believe this revelation I discovered in year one has saved my marriage on many occasions.
  2. Use the Five Minute Rule.  Make a list of every room you have to clean, and then set a timer for five minutes.  Go to the first one and work like a mad woman until the timer goes off.  Don’t think about it too hard.  Just pick up the first thing that your eyes land on that doesn’t give you mental anguish to figure out where it should live in your home.  When the timer goes off, drop whatever you are doing and walk back to your list.  Cross that room off, congratulate yourself, and move on to the next.  When you’ve visited all of your rooms, repeat.
  3. Stick to the plan.  Don’t let yourself get distracted from the your assigned room during the five minutes.  As you carry the bathroom scale from your kid’s bed back down to its actual home, you’ll be tempted to notice the golf-ball sized dust bunnies on your stairs that are hopping around and actually beginning to talk.  Ignore them.  Their time will come.
  4. Set a goal.  Plan to reward yourself after you’ve done your five minutes in all eight rooms.    But when that ends up seeming like an eternity, and you have to stop for a short break after just six, don’t beat yourself up too much.  You’re making progress.
  5. Don’t feel guilty about throwing away your kids’ artwork from school.  There will be more, I promise.  And it only gets cuter as time passes.  Just please, please be sure to burry it in the trashcan well below other non-kid created items.  This will save you lots of explaining later.
  6. If you get really desperate, pretend you are some sort of cleaning expert while you work and invent all sorts of great ideas for advice.  Spend your reward break blogging about it.

Ok….that was waaaay too much stalling.  Back at at.  Round two:  Ding!