Over the last few weeks, both my mother and Archer's mother have called to check on me. With Yetta, I keep it simple. I tell her I'm tired, but fine; we're all adjusting well, and no, we don't need anything. That's my standard line, whether it's true or not. With my mom, I'm a bit more honest. In fact, yesterday I was not having a good day. It had nothing to do with my children and everything to do with the clutter that was threatening to consume my house.
You see, Archer, as wonderful as he is, isn't great about putting things away. He routinely fixes something and then leaves his screwdriver lying on the kitchen counter for 3 weeks. That is one example; I could name many others. I have grown to accept this as a flaw that I cannot fix. I've tried. I've tried nagging; I've tried behavior modification; I've tried everything. So usually I just put the stuff away. It's easier. If I get really irritated, I pick it all up and dump it on his desk for him to put away. And rather than put it away, he will push it aside so he can access his papers and his keyboard. This leads to lots of minor arguments. I put something away, and he's sure he left it on top of the refrigerator (which is, apparently, an optimal spot to store tools, loose batteries, belts). He goes to locate said item, and when he finally deigns to ask me if I know where it is, I tell him, "I put it in your toolbox in the basement because, you know, that's where your tools go." He then gets irritated because he has to go to the basement to get said object, and I'm irritated because if he just put it away in the first place we wouldn't have this discussion for the 9 millionth time.
Add to that the fact that we have two children who have free reign over the house and that their puzzles, books, cars, and Legos often end up in places where they don't belong. Oh, and let's not forget all the ephemera that accompanies a new born--burp cloths, blankets, socks, and the like. Yes, my house was more than a bit cluttered.
Typically I take an hour on Saturday and put things away. It is the most efficient way I've come up with as I can't retrain my entire family (although Wild Man and Bear are well on their way to putting their things away at the end of the day) nor can I hire a professional organizer. I don't mind either. But George has made this almost impossible lately.
Yesterday I was at my wits end. I was tired and needed a nap, but more than that, I needed my house to be clean and de-cluttered for one day. I was less than pleasant as everyone and everything was preventing my plan for de-cluttering. I will not go into details, but I will say that Archer and I had discussed this plan on Saturday night. Thus, when I came downstairs to find Wild Man and Bear had dumped out their extensive Lego collection all over the living room and that Archer was napping with George rather than taking out the vacuum cleaner I was annoyed. My mom happened to call when I was finally able to get everyone to accomplish a specific task to de-clutter the house. I told her what was going on. She replied, "Well, M, you have three boys now; you may have to accept a certain amount of clutter, at least until George is older." I was so irritated with that comment that I changed the subject and then got off the phone.
Why was I irritated? My mom is absolutely right; for a while, at least, I'm going to have to deal with some clutter. Other things trump having a neat and tidy house. I can (and usually do) live with that. But every. single. time. I talk to her she reminds me that I now have three children. And I want to say, "Really? Three? When did that happen? Oh right, I do vaguely remember giving birth to the third. Thanks for the reminder, Mom." Yes, my impulse is to be snarky and sarcastic. But she says it very snarkily too. As though I should have realized life would be so hectic and chaotic when we decided to add a third child to our family. Yes, I'm being testy and a bit immature, but honestly, I could live without hearing that unnecessary remark ever again.
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