One Sunday afternoon recently, my four sweet children were playing happily together. No fighting, fussing, yelling, name-calling. Just peaceful, joyful, creative sounds. At one point I peeked in the laundry room and saw the oddest sight. Judah sitting on a chair with a blue bowl on his head, Wesley in the dryer, and Malin & Avery carrying them food from the pantry.
Oh well. Whatever. It may be random, it may be weird, but they’re not causing any problems.
Or so I thought.
About 6:30 that evening when Roger came home after being gone for the weekend, and we’d all greeted him, I had some reason to go back into the laundry room where I realized that those ridiculously creative children of mine had completely emptied the pantry shelves (within their reach) and had stacked all of my food on an empty set of shelves (waiting to be mounted on the wall) and in a laundry basket and in the dryer. What were they thinking?!
And the worst of it was that I couldn’t even make them put everything right. Sure, they put all the food away in the pantry, but they don’t know my sense of order. (At this point, the die-hard disciplinarian would stand over them and help them sort everything out and understand my sense of order with hopes that they would eventually become good pantry organizers in their own right – It’s also the point where I step in before Roger has a chance to suggest the above scenario and I say, “I need to reorganize this pantry anyway.”) I had been planning on doing it, but it would have been nice to do it on my own time frame. NOT while packing and getting ready for Thanksgiving vacation.
But everything is put back now. And the laundry room is neater than it has been since we moved in. I’ve got a new cabinet in there (it was a bathroom vanity that someone was getting rid of – now it has a flat surface for me to do whatever with) with a set of shelves mounted on the wall above it.
The older I get, the more desperate I am for order around me. My mom tells me that’s the type of person who is more likely to develop Alzheimer’s earlier. (Or something like that.) I remember at the time thinking how nice it was that I survive happily in chaos. Oh well, Alzheimer’s, here I come. At least in the beginning stages I should still be able to find all the things that I put away so methodically.