Alright. ALRIGHT. I’ve been known to speak my mind.
Fine. Have it your way. I complain a lot. But this winter actually DESERVES my complaints. I’m pretty sure I haven’t opened a window in this house for six months. Stale air and stale attitude.
Now that the thermometer is flirting with above-zero temperatures, we can all get serious about sweeping out the winter cobwebs. You can find some extremely thorough “Spring Cleaning” checklists:
Bad news, anxiety, cranky family members — there are endless reasons to avoid making phone calls. The hand-held convenience of instant messaging, email, and text has given us another way to avoid the person-to-person contact that comes with picking up the phone and actually talking to a real, live, responding, human being.
It was only a few months ago that my daughter started sprouting hair. Calling it actual “hair” might have been generous at the time. Tiny buds of fuzz were poking through her scalp like the optimistic greens of spring.
I did what any reasonable mother would do at seeing those first follicles: I went shopping for adorable hair bobbles. Clips, clamps, pins, bands, bows — it was like a child beauty pageant dressing room had thrown up into my daughter’s room.
Our family recently had the flu. I don’t mean a few sniffles and snuffles. I mean the rotten “can’t keep down water and would being dead be that bad?” flu that makes the grown ups call their own parents for help.
Housework is impossible when you are running to “drive the porcelain bus” between singing the ABCs and halving grapes.
Partying has taken on a whole new meaning since becoming a parent. Don’t get me wrong, I like dressing up, freezing my bum off, standing in line, and having a hangover as much as the next guy . . . wait, what?
The Oscars are a big deal. Despite the annual post-Oscar trashing that everyone engages in (“The speeches were boring,” “The host was a nob,” “There wasn’t enough twerking,” etc.) the Academy Awards still sparkle with all the glitz and glamour that the entertainment world holds.
I’d love to say that I was being eco-friendly in my recent cleaning pursuits. A steward of the environment. A real crunchy mummy — the one I often aspire to be, but fall short of when I break out the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser.
If I were being honest, I would have to admit that my search for a make-your-own goo-remover was motivated by impatience.
“Out of clutter, find simplicity. From discord, find harmony. In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.” – Albert Einstein
Clutter is the beast that can fell even the most productive parent. We live with, use, and need stuff. We have come to rely on the stuff that makes our lives better, easier, faster, prettier, and warmer. The price of our habitual consumerism can be that the stuff begins to own us.
I can still vividly recall the homework battles I had with my own mom—“I’ve already graduated grade five!” she would exclaim as I incessantly whined for help from the kitchen table.
Preparing for parenthood seemed pretty simple: I read about health, labour and delivery, and soothing techniques. I worked out, tried to eat right, and took a CPR class.
I felt over-prepared, and that was comforting.
What I hadn’t realized was that I should have been studying for a PHD in the sorting, storing, and replenishing of a mountain of children’s clothing.
It takes a while to get the hang of it. Truth be told, it’s a never-ending battle.
So far, the weather has been lovely and no one has food poisoning. Everyone has a sunburn.
I’m sending this short note to thank you for doing a number of things before you left on this trip. Your forward thinking has spared our family the common home-hazards that often follow a vacation. These include, but are not limited to:
“I can’t clean the house today. It’s just too messy, and it will take me ages to get it all done. I ll just give it until tomorrow when I have more time.”
Being a life-long perfectionist has, mostly, served me well. I excelled in school. I have loads of interesting hobbies that I love. My brushing and flossing habits are pretty stellar.
With that designation comes some great perks. For example, you could eat a whole can of whipped cream for dinner. But, with those perks come responsibilities. Making your bed falls into that nasty category.
Think of making your bed like your first opportunity to say: “Good morning, World. I’ve got this day under control. Starting right now…”
Here are 5 tips for making your bed better, and faster:
Martha Stewart is an icon; a maven. She's the high school mean girl you want to be like and fiercely loathe.
You love her Halloween craft ideas (radishes and olives as an eyeball salad?!), and you loathe the inferiority complex she has slathered on you as you look around your own home.
Her brand is built upon our latent domestic diva desires; the illusion of perfection.
This year, I am resolving to flip Martha the bird.
It started when she said this in a recent interview:
With life comes stuff. And with stuff comes the need to organize that stuff. The big problem is the little stuff - the stuff that piles at the top and bottom of every staircase in your house - like the books, toys, belts, pens, and glasses case kinda stuff that takes an army to cart up/down the stairs.
It's the stuff you find yourself falling over, and saying words like "crap" (only worse).
And, if your house is as busy as mine is, that stuff just won’t stay where I put it. Imagine that.
When I was in my teens, I used to dream about the immaculately organized home I would, one day, create.
Working with classic colours and patterns I would fashion a house worthy of the Style at Home magazine cover. Damn, that floor would shine like the top of the Chrysler building.
*Sound of a record scratching*
Then I grew up, inherited a bunch of useful and ugly crap, and had a baby. Welcome to thinking creatively about how to make your home organized on life’s terms.
I’m a two-bird, one-stone kinda shopper during the holidays. I like to make that list, check it a-neurotically-bizarre-number of times, and then shop Shop SHOP! Online shopping was made for people like me.
I hate the “honey-do” list. I have a strong negative emotional reaction to the idea of telling my husband what MAN JOBS need to be done around the house.
Taking out the garbage, changing the light bulbs, hanging the floating shelves. I can and will do ‘em all.
In our tech-driven, efficiency-obsessed world there is one thing about the holidays I still don’t mind taking the time to do right: sending written cards.
I know. It’s crazy. Sending e-cards can be almost as gorgeous as the real thing. They can save you time, they can save you money, and they can save your sanity during a busy season.
How This To-Do List Can Help You Get A Handle On All You Have To Do