I really do like our house, honest. It’s cute and open and light, and I actually appreciate that it’s small enough that if I’m in one room, I can hear Saoirse doing jumping jacks on her bed in another. It’s an older home, though–circa Lyndon B. Johnson older–and true to its era, well, it’s got the closet space of a TV my mom would’ve used to watch the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. Yeah, that small.
And because of that, we have to do the twice-a-year switcharoo of off-season clothes, which I usually put off until I can no longer get away with wearing lamb’s wool sweaters at the local pool. I dread the Rubbermaid storage containers staged around the bedroom. I weep at the thought of sorting through clothes to give away to charity. And now that I’m post-baby but not quite finished nursing (3 weeks and 4 days to go, now that I’m counting), I have to try on every. single. item of clothing. So I do what any organized person does: I start the project at a really improbable time of day (4 p.m, right before dinner prep), abandon it around 10, and avoid it for the next two days.
This year, the day after my well-intentioned start I woke amid a sea of opened boxes and stacks of clothes, and immediately threw myself into other activities (you may have noticed this by now, but I’m not a multitasker. It’s one project at a time for me. Not such a useful idiosyncrasy when you’re a SAHM). So my mom and I took the girls shopping for sandals. Quinn started feeling poorly, so I focused on her before our nighttime doctor’s visit. Today, I took Saoirse to MyGym, then decided to do a little baking (I’m obsessed with those doggoned scones, I tell you). Anything to avoid stepping back into that project.
But I’ve learned a couple things these last few days. For one thing, if you don’t feel like dusting your furniture, baking with citrus zest will at least make your house smell like you just Pledged the heck out of it.
Also, a 3-year-old daughter does not like an untidy bedroom (“Mom, you need to clean this up. It’s very messy in here.”). And lastly, one does not really need as many clothes as one thinks, especially when her closets are the size of walnut shells.
So, tomorrow, I vow to tackle the seasonal clothes switch and finish the job…right after we go to the park.
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