Tag Archives: organizing

Very Close Quarters

We were up until, oh, I don’t know – rough guess: 1:46 AM. ALMOST TWO FREAKING O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING. Why? Organizing the dangerously high mountain of toys that have taken over our living room, making it impossible to clean or walk or find anything. And going through a locked cabinet of office supplies and mementos that roaches – yes, I’m admitting it, internet world – ROACHES OMG! – had made a nest in. It seems that they like dark, seldom visited places. So, we were sorting, throwing out stuff we really don’t need (Christmas cards from people we don’t remember), wiping down stuff we’ll keep forever (first anniversary cards to each other, the letter I wrote my husband to thank him for his love and support after we lost our first baby, my niece’s handwritten/hand-drawn card to me when she was 4 years old), and filling the cabinet with our music books, ensuring that we will now be in there a lot more frequently.

And in the midst of all that, we were desperately trying to get Little N asleep. Seems he decided that sleeping was not on the menu for the evening and he NEEDED. TO. BE. HELD. BY. ONE. OF. YOU. PREFERABLY. MOM. but if she’s too busy to cuddle and cradle and play with her little darling at midnight because roaches are so much more fascinating then fine dad will do but i hope you feel guilty for the rest of your life mom because i’m really cute and look at this sad face. SAD FACE. CRYING SAD ABANDONED FACE.

So, yes, internet. I am fried today. Synapses misfiring all over the place.

And in my bleariness, I’m trying to think of ways to be happy. I caught my reflection in the mirror a couple of times this weekend, and the adjectives that spring to mind when I look at my face? Determined. Gritty. Set. Resolved. Firm. Resolute. Dogged. Not bad, not bad if you are climbing a mountain in bad weather or crawling on your belly through the mud in the jungle which I am trust me. But I didn’t see anything else. I didn’t see happy, peaceful, ease, warmth, optimism, excitement, fun. I see a lot of “getting through it”. And granted, there’s a lot to get through. I’ve got two little children and I live in one of the most difficult cities in the US and I have a ROACH NEST IN MY HOME FOR FREAKS’ SAKE!

And we don’t have enough room. There’s simply not enough room. Underlined by our new fridge, delivered on Friday, whose door cannot be opened all the way because it hits the handle to the oven door on the other side of the room. Yep, you read right, suburbanites – the other side of the room. And we have diapers and wipes and clothes clothes clothes and toys toys toys and then all of my junk and all of my husband’s junk. I throw stuff out every single day and there is still not enough room. I am a decluttering maniac, and not enough room.

(Perspective. This is the living room before our project last night. You see what I mean, right? And then a close-up of the new “toy corner”. So, yeah, worth no sleep.)

Toys Before Toys

But really, maybe I’m thinking about it all wrong. I keep thinking that our space is too small our space is too small our space is too small. And I think the same about our time – we don’t have enough, it’s too full, I’m overwhelmed.

But what is in our space? Each other. Each other and the things we love. My kids’ favorite toys. Pieces of our family history. Little things that hold the energy of the giver and the receiver, the love of the owner, and a little part of him (or her). My crowded home is crowded with love.

And what is in my time? My teaching (love), my singing (love), my husband and children (love, love, love), my family (love), my friends (love), my faith (love), even my day job (ok, maybe not love like I love the other things, but don’t hate and I really like some of the people, and it pays for a lot of things I really do love). And then also reading and writing this blog and watching Louis CK and Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones. And eating cookie dough and trying out the new whiskeys in my husband’s book about whiskey. So, a lot of love in my time.

Do I wish there was more sleeping? Sweet Baby Jesus, yes! Please dear God in Heaven, please please send me nights of solid consecutive sleep of at least 7 hours, that is an earnest prayer!

But I’m getting used to the close quarters. It’s a little box, but I think we fit.

Boys

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Filed under Connections, Parenting, Singing