I had a fever today. Actually, I had a fever the entire week. It was definitely Spring fever.
Along with my fever came other symptoms, which may or may not have been related to my viewing of several “Hoarders” episodes a few weeks ago. I had an intense desire to sort, organize, and clean. And, I felt compelled to make a pilgrimage to The Container Store before Summer came.
There were so many places that needed a bit sorting and organizing in my house that I didn’t know where to begin. I still had not unpacked the cartons I had brought home from work that fateful day I got laid off in February; somehow, given my emotional forecast of late, I decided it was best not to start there. Given that Iz had just received several hand-me-down toys and books from Sucra's daughter, I thought that it might be good to begin in her room.
Of course, every week, I must clean Iz’s room. Usually, I deem her room clean when I can see the floor; that is, it’s always cluttered but neater. Like a small child, I always avoid her closet, because I'm afraid of what's inside it.
I knew there was a monster of a mess behind the closed door. Stuffed animals dive bombed me from the two top shelves whenever I opened the door. Books were strewn across two shelves with chapter books, chunky cardboard baby books, dust jackets, coloring books all intermingled; and as I glanced cover to cover, all I could read was, “Organize us!” I couldn’t even see the floor, because it was covered with mismatched shoes and whatever else had been thrown inside in order to hide it from the light of day.
I needed a plan; I took in it all, including Iz’s bedside table and the top of her bureau, which were almost as scary as her closet. I decided to deal with the closet first; I took a deep breath, opened the door, and Poodlena hit me square in the forehead. The stuffed animals were fighting back; it was going to be a long morning!
Thirty minutes later, I had two bags of stuffed animals in the hallway. I decided that stuffed animals that were not “Daddy’s When He Was Little” or made by some quality stuffed animal company were destined to be donated. There were so many stuffed animals, and Iz had spent so little time with most of them.
I then pulled out all the books and started “keep” and “donate” piles. Mixed in with the books were pieces of paper on which Iz had written notes to me, to herself, or to Nathan (“No Boys!”). Of course, knowing I should expect to find anything and everything in her closet, I came across a candy wrapper here, a juice box there, and a tootsie roll pop stick stuck to the wall.
When I reached the floor, I was exhausted. Cleaning a house is difficult work. When you add a thought process to cleaning (Keep? Donate? What the heck is this?), it becomes physically and emotionally exhausting!
From the floor, I picked up shoes, more books, a witch’s hat, five purses, and three dirty mismatched socks among other things. When the floor was bare, there were several gray and white dust kitties looking up at me. They definitely looked like they needed a good vacuuming.
Once the closet was sorted, organized, and clean, I began on Iz’s bedside table. After the baby books were removed, I replaced them with chapter books. When I opened the table's only drawer, I found Iz’s secret stash of cat crunchies; the next time she tells me that she’s a cat whisperer, well, I won’t tell her I know why!
Her bureau contained a jewelry box, a basket, a plastic container, and bowl. Each container held a bzillion little assorted things in it – little stuffed animals, Polly Pocket shoes, barrettes, plastic animals, and doll combs. And, how many doll brushes did we need?
Three hours later, I had planted my stake in her room as a sign that I had conquered it. For some reason though, I couldn’t stop there; the fever was burning bright inside of me. Next stop, Iz’s bins of toys and desk in the family room! Tawanda!
It was a lovely day here. In between “Keep?” or “Donate?” thoughts, I kept telling myself, “I will walk/run/bike in 30 minutes.” But, thirty minutes came and went and came and went another three times.
After sorting Polly Pockets from Barbies, identifying game pieces and placing them with the correct board game, and throwing away papers that had been snipped into a thousand little pieces and saved in Iz's desk, I had transformed Iz’s corner of the family room into a neat and organized space. Believe me though, I was not kidding myself. I knew that in three months, I’d be back in the same place doing the same thing.
I perused my work in the family room. I went upstairs and perused Iz’s bedroom and closet. I soaked it all in, because like a rainbow after a thunderstorm on a warm day, I knew this sort-organize-and-clean state of the nation was fleeting.
My biggest concern was her reaction to the transformation. She’d either love it or hate it. I knew when she saw my “labor of neat,” I would apprehensively stand there and wait for her to say something like, “Mom, where is that plastic turtle I got in my Happy Meal on October 23, 2009?”
I knew the answer to most of those questions. Unfortunately, it was, “In the trash.” But, I knew I'd have to say, “Your what? You got it when? I'm sure the kitten took it!” (Nathan taught me well!)
At 3pm, I met Iz’s bus. As usual, she chatted with Noah and then asked me what we were going to do. I told her that we could take Monty for a long walk or she could play with her Barbie Glam Pool in the yard; she voted for the pool, of course!
Once home, she bolted in the front door. When I got in the door, I assumed she went straight for snacks. I walked into the kitchen, glanced in the family room, and when I didn’t see her, I called, “Iz?!?!?!?!!?”
From upstairs, I heard a “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?” I thought, “Oh, no. Did she notice her room? She did, and now she's on the floor in shock!” I headed upstairs; when I got to the door of her room, I realized she was in my bedroom patting Plume.
She hopped off the bed and then headed into her room. I then heard, “Mommy, who organized all this?” I gulped and said, “I did.”
She said, “This is great, Mommy!” She hadn’t even seen her closet yet. Proudly, as if I was reading an excerpt from my Great American Novel on the Oprah Winfrey show, I opened her closet door.
This is what she saw.
And, this is her reaction to what she saw.
I think she was happy, don’t you? She hugged my leg again. But, then she asked, “Did you throw any stuffed animals away?”
I swallowed hard and said, “No. I just organized them.” I lied, but she had so many stuffed animals. In fact, it was so overpopulated in that closet that I was afraid that they might revolt and start their own country.
Iz then touched the neatly organized books on the shelf. She pulled out one at random. She looked at it, and then said ecstatically, “I didn’t even know I had this one, Mommy!”
My work was done. I turned to leave and began to walk down the hallway to my desk. Just then, Iz said, “I love this, Mommy. You didn’t have to do this!”
It was so good to be appreciated, even if I knew this feeling would only last until our next parent-child alteration. I knew this would occur at 7:30pm when I said, “Time for tub, Iz.” With Mother’s Day only a few days away, I realized that I didn’t need flowers or presents; I’d take the “Mom, you can do no wrong” status that I had in that moment any day of the week.
After vacuuming the entire downstairs, I went up to Iz’s room to check on her. She was on her bed. The Polly Pocket dolls, the ones that I had painstakingly collected throughout the house and put into one container, were scattered all over her floor and bed.
I smiled, and I said softly under my breath, “You’re a one girl wrecking crew.” She asked, What?” I quickly answered, “I said I love you.” ♥
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