Decluttering, food, and laundry: so how’s it going? Even though the kids were home from school the entire week before Thanksgiving, and I ended up getting quite sick right after, I’ve made a surprising amount of progress in the last two weeks.
Decluttering I spent the week leading up to Thanksgiving focusing on the kitchen and dining area: clearing old food out of the freezer and pantry, and getting the counters and tabletops clear. I wanted to set the stage for Thanksgiving dinner prep, as well as all the holiday baking we’ll begin in the next few weeks. I had to depart from the recovery plan in order to tidy the living areas and one bedroom, as we were expecting an overnight guest for the weekend. The kids were home from school the entire week before Thanksgiving, so I gave them small cleanup jobs each day. Our guest ended up not being able to come due to illness, but we still got to enjoy our tidy living areas. The Thanksgiving preparations took up a lot of my time, so I wasn’t able to start decluttering the laundry room like I had hoped, but I did remove some boxes and a broken fan from my bedroom in order to make room for new laundry hampers.
Food After the big push to get the kitchen and dining areas cleaned up, preparing our Thanksgiving dinner went very smoothly. It was lovely to be cooking all morning in my clean kitchen. Even though there’s not much counter space in my kitchen, I still had plenty of space for all the preparations. And since I had purged old food from the fridge and freezer, I wasn’t scrambling to find Pyrex container for all the leftovers! I ended up getting quite sick the the Sunday after Thanksgiving, but luckily we had lots of yummy leftovers to eat, so with my limited energy I just focused on keeping the kitchen tidy.
Laundry I’m proud to say that laundry is one area I feel like I’ve gotten a handle on in the last year, though there’s still room for improvement. While I didn’t get to re-organize the laundry room like I’d hoped, I did order FOUR sturdy, rectangular laundry baskets to replace the two we had been using. The ones I replaced were small and collapsed easily, so more often than not the dirty clothes just ended up piled in the bedroom and hallway. Having four hampers also allows me to sort the washing more easily.
In my second post, I imagined my years of overwhelm as being tossed in a storm at sea. I’m ready to put the storm behind me: to escape survival mode and start building the life I want. My oldest just started college in September, and while he’s still living at home, I know that he’ll only be under our roof for a year or two more. The urgency to cultivate a joyful, life-giving family culture that he- and all our children- will want to return to has never been stronger.
In my life I have experienced a number of literal storms, both while living in the Mid-Atlantic (tropical storms, even a couple of hurricanes) and the Midwest (windstorms, ice storms… though fortunately I was never directly in the path of a tornado!) After extreme weather, neighbors would always be found the next morning cleaning up storm damage, and making the most urgent repairs to their homes. Utility crews would be working overtime to clear roads and restore power, while state and federal agencies would mobilize to provide shelter, food, and clean water for folks who had been displaced.
So while I have a lot of lofty goals for this year, I have come to realize that there’s some “disaster recovery” that needs to take place first: clearing away the storm debris (decades worth of clutter) and restoring essential services. The first part (clutter) is easy to visualize. But what are the essential services provided by the homemaker/primary caregiver? Many days it seems to be… everything. However, one wise lady counsels overwhelmed homemakers to simply begin with food and clean laundry. So this is where I’ll start.
October 6, 2021. My first post, a year ago today. I fully expected that by this time, a year later (and more than TWO YEARS since I first had the idea for this blog) I’d be enjoying the fruits of progress in every area of my life: home, family, health, finances… a total life transformation.
There has been progress in some areas, but the type of slow, barely measurable progress I’ve come to settle for over the last 20 years: a few steps forward, a few steps back when new life challenges present themselves- as they inevitably do with a growing family. What I’m hungry for- and what I’d hoped this blog would help me accomplish- is dramatic change, like the story of the woman with the lily in my first post.
There have been a few developments that have the potential to be game-changers, however
1. Two of my children have been diagnosed with ADHD, and two others are showing many of the characteristics of ADHD, as well. That’s four out of six kids, people! This diagnosis goes a looooong way toward explaining the frustration and absolute CHAOS that has defined our family life from the beginning. I want to be clear that I don’t blame the kids! In fact, it probably has more to do with me. As I’ve begun learning about this condition, one intriguing tidbit of information that I’ve heard over and over is that it’s common for parents, upon having a child diagnosed with ADHD, realize that they (the parents) struggle with many of the same things, as well. That’s definitely been the case for me!
We’re still in the early stages of learning how to manage ADHD as a family, but I’m hopeful that this diagnosis will help us zero in on the changes that will have the most impact on our quality of life, and set us all up for success.
2. I finally saw my doctor about a chronic medical condition I was first diagnosed with in my twenties. With a couple of new medications, I’m down thirty pounds since this time last year. I have significantly less pain and slightly more energy. This one small decision (to see my doctor) has had an outsize impact on my health, and I hope to build on that in the coming year.
3. The “baby” of the family, now three years old, is attending preschool for the first time. I now have just short of three hours each morning where I can focus on bringing my dreams for my family and personal life to fruition. When I started working on this blog over two years ago, I had hoped that by being strategic with my time and energy, I could make big strides even with her at home all day. That didn’t happen, but now having consistent, uninterrupted time to myself will be a game-changer.
And so, a year later, I begin again. But where to start….
I approach the footpath that slopes away from the shore. It seems to lead toward the gray roof in the distance, though I can’t be sure. But something deep in my soul tells me that the peaceful home life that has always eluded me lies at the end of this path, and so I begin to follow it.
The path takes me gently upward, ending (as I thought) in front of the gray-roofed house. I rest for a few moments against the gate, taking in a breathtaking view of the ocean. Then I turn to consider the house in front of me. This isn’t the diminutive cottage of my daydreams, but rather a two-story home: not grand, but large enough for a family. I push the gate open and continue toward it, my feet crunching on the shells that line the walkway.
I cross the deep porch that runs the length of the house, and pause only a moment before trying the door. Though I’ve never been here before, I sense that this is a place prepared for me and my family. I enter and begin to explore the inside
Just as I thought, it is a spacious house, and so gracious with high ceilings and lovely wood floors throughout. From the sound of a washing machine running down the hall, it’s clear that people are living here. And yet, an air of neglect hangs over the place. Outside it’s a glorious spring day, but inside the house is musty and dark. A quick circuit of the downstairs reveals grimy walls and cluttered surfaces– kitchen countertops, side tables: there’s not a clear surface to be found. In the formal dining room, the table is a jumble of school papers, mail, empty glasses, art projects… I’m sure it’s been months since the family has been able to eat a proper supper there. What a shame; with the tall windows opening to the sea, it would be a pleasant place to linger over a meal. Next to it is the kitchen, which show signs of more recent use: with dishes piled next to the sink, food-spattered walls, and cabinet doors hanging open. Further on I come to a parlor. Tucked at the back of the house, this room doesn’t boast a view as the other rooms do. But with its tall bookshelves and comfortable armchairs by the fireplace, I could imagine spending many cozy hours here. But the disarray evident here, as in the rest of the house, takes away the air of comfort.
I go upstairs to examine the bedrooms. There are two children’s rooms, but, wanting to avoid stepping on the toys strewn all over the floor, I just peek at them from the door. The master bedroom is in even worse shape. With boxes and bags shoved against the walls and in every corner, it might be better described as a storage room. Even the dressers are so piled with clothes so that I wonder what they’re keeping in their drawers? And the carpet is an embarrassing state. Clearly hasn’t been vacuumed in awhile, but it would be an ordeal to move around all that clutter to do it.
I head back downstairs, sliding my hand along the dark wood banister. As I retrace my steps through the first floor, I take note of the piles of clutter, the unswept corners, the scuffed woodwork… A powerful urge is rising up in me. First, to box up the junk crowding nearly every surface and haul it away, to give the home (and its inhabitants) space to breathe. Then to pull down the musty curtains and scrub the windows until they sparkle. To dust and scour, sweep and mop every surface. To repaint the dingy walls in soothing colors, and hang lace curtains at the windows. To fill it with fresh flowers, good food to nourish the body, music and conversation to feed the soul….
I need to start a list… I return to dining room to rummage through the disarray on the table, finding a pencil and an old school notebook. I return to the porch and settle on the one creaky chair. I imagine the family gatherings that could take place here. It could use a good sweeping though. And some comfortable furniture to invite one to linger. My eyes sweep across the lawn, bare now, but in my mind it’s abloom with flowers: fat hydrangeas in that shady corner over there; lilac bushes flanking the porch; a tumble of roses spilling down the slope toward the sea….
Plans, dreams… they’re coming in a torrent now. I need to get them down on paper. I flip the notebook open to the first blank page, and begin to write: “A year from now….”
Over twenty years ago, even before we were married, my husband and I agreed that, once we had kids, I would stay home with them full-time. We envisioned a (relatively) peaceful home life without the stress of juggling two careers and childcare. But in place of the pressure to help support the family financially, my life has been oppressed by stress of a different kind– that of not feeling competent in my roles as wife, mother, and homemaker. With six kids at home (ages two to seventeen) I accept that this season of my life will be a lot of work, but I struggle to stay on top of even my most basic responsibilities- getting supper on the table every night, keeping up with the laundry, the cleaning and the overwhelming amount of stuff in our home. That feeling of overwhelm spills over into the intangible parts of motherhood- dealing with sibling squabbles, helping them manage their emotions, training them in good habits…. Certainly I’ve slowly built up my stamina as the years have gone by, and I accomplish more in a day than I ever did when I was an energetic twenty-something with just one little boy to look after. But my energy and skills always seem to fall short. It’s as if I spend my days treading water- stuck in survival mode, not getting anywhere, paddling furiously just to keep my head above the waves….
And that was before my kids’ school closed down last year due to the COVID-19 pandemic. When that happened I lost the little bit of quiet time I could look forward to while my daughter was at preschool, and now had to manage the distance learning for the three school-age kids while caring for an infant and a high-energy preschooler. (The high-schooler was able to manage his online learning on his own, thankfully.) My husband had been in the habit of taking the younger kids on weekend adventures so I’d have time to get caught up on housework and just have some downtime, but now all the places they might have gone were off limits- not just libraries and museums like you’d expect, but in our area, even parks, playgrounds, and hiking trails were closed in the beginning. Since my parents are over seventy, we couldn’t even take the kids to their house for a break. If I felt like I was treading water before, now I was drowning, the waves closing over my head….
I gave up trying to make things better, or even trying to keep up. I resented my children’s endless demands and the fact that I was shouldering the burden of online learning on my own. All the dissatisfaction I’d felt before, my struggles to manage the housework and the kids’ behavior, was only amplified under the circumstances. I felt trapped and was convinced that only some drastic life change would allow me to feel any shred of satisfaction in my life again. I fantasized about putting up a shed in the backyard, or building an addition onto our home so I could have a sewing room/study to retreat to– but apart from the fact that we couldn’t afford either option, I knew the kids would find me one way or another. I thought about hiring a nanny so I could leave the house for a few hours each day- but where would I go? Remember, even the public library was closed at the time. And again, the cost put it out of reach.
But the most tempting (and impossible) fantasy of all was buying a vacation home I could escape to for days (weeks?) at a time. At my lowest, when it was still uncertain when things would be getting back to “normal” I’d hide in my bedroom and dream about how I’d rather be spending my days: reading for hours at a time, taking long walks, sewing, napping…. I filled a Pinterest board with pictures of what I envisioned. It would be tiny, but clean, and oh-so quiet. This place came to represent all that was lacking in my life: beauty, order, peace, but most of all uninterrupted time. Time to rest, to take care of myself (exercise, long baths….) to pursue hobbies that I gave up long ago. And all these desires would finally come to fruition in this mythical home: a remote cottage by the sea.
Thankfully, those months of distance learning are at an end (the kids went back to school full time earlier this year) and we’re able to see friends and family again. The worst is over for our family… but I’m not content to return to the way things were before. Those months of isolation exposed but also deepened the strains in our of family life: the disorder we’ve become accustomed to, the strained relationships. After any major storm, there’s major rebuilding to be done. Having survived the shipwreck, we’ve been cast upon an unfamiliar shore.
A path leads away from the beach and toward the ridge behind me. In the distance, a gray roof is just visible behind the dunes. The seaside cottage of my daydreams, perhaps? While those hours spent hiding from my family, dreaming of escape, could be put to better use, I do think there’s something to be gained from exploring my fantasy. Not to escape my life, but to see if I can’t let some of the peace, the beauty of my daydreams into my life, here and now. I pick myself up off the sand, and go to have a look….
“I remember reading a story once about a woman who was a terrible housekeeper. Someone gave her a beautiful lily which she brought home and put in a vase in her parlor. The lily, though, showed up the vase for being all tarnished and dusty. She took the vase and polished it, only to see that the table it sat on now looked terrible and had to be cleaned as well. At last she stood back and contemplated the gleaming table and the white lily in satisfaction– but then the parlor itself was dim and murky by comparison. Before she knew what had happened, she was scrubbing down the whole house, washing curtains, throwing open windows, letting air and light pour into every dark corner.”
from Laurel’s Kitchen by Laurel Robertson, Carol Flinders, and Bronwen Godfrey, Nilgiri Press 1976
A Year From Now 