Iteration

I find it much too coincidental that the word ‘irritation’ so closely resembles the word ‘iteration,’ because when Bryan continually tells me that we should ‘iterate’ through our schedules and lists, I feel quite ‘irritated.’ Nevertheless, I’ve learned to love and appreciate his project management of the home even though I am much more free spirited (read:unorganized) than he is. In the end, I usually end up affirming his methods, but only after stubbornly refusing (for weeks and months) to even consider them.

Maybe it’s not for you, but this system seems to works for us.

For awhile now, I’ve been setting my alarm and getting up before the kids. Theoretically. About the earliest I can get out of bed is 6:30 – and that’s after snoozing through NPR for 30 minutes, so I usually wake up around 6. Ruthie is our early riser, and wakes up anywhere between 6:30 and 7:30. Let me tell you that mornings do not go well for anyone around here when I rise at the butt crack of dawn to have some ‘alone time’ and instead find my eldest hanging on my clothes asking me for cereal. And candy.

Last week, however, I iterated. Instead of getting up early to curl up in my chair with a book and a cup of coffee, I decided to sit at the dining room table with my laptop and a cup of coffee. I now start my morning in household management mode, planning the day, returning emails, knocking stuff off my to-do list… you get the idea.

It has changed the way mornings feel around here.

For one thing, I’m not flying by the seat of my pants all day, wishing I had remembered to do This and That and wondering at 4pm what I should make for dinner. Secondly, I’m not in Selfish Time Hording Mode when my Early Riser wakes up just as I sit down to read. That was the worst: seeing my daughter first thing in the morning and immediately wishing I had exercised better use of birth control. She’s adorable, and I didn’t like that icky feeling of not thinking she is adorable.

My kids still watch over an hour of t.v. in the morning because I am still NOT a morning person, so this is how I choose to acclimate myself to the day.

How do you start your day?

Off the Deep End

I think I’ve officially spilled over the edge into Manic Organization Mode, considering I just spent an entire nap making chore charts for Ruthie. Watch out, I just might become a home schooler.

Ruthie will get stickers each day she completes the chores and is generally respectful, kind, and fun, and she will learn a new Bible verse every two weeks. I’m trying to decide whether she should get an extra special treat if she fills in all (or most) of her stickers at the end of 14 days. Any suggestions on how to work that?

I made the chart using legal sized printer paper, and have a template I can just trace when I need a new one. It is simply taped to the pink card stock so I can easily switch to the new chart at the end of fourteen days.

Also, Ruthie woke up and colored next to me while I finished the chart, and now both kids are sitting with me as I write this post. All this happy togetherness is making my uterus twitch!

[p.s. – thanks to my friend, Sarah, for the Be Kind, Be Respectful, and Be Fun to Be Around goals!]

More about me (aren’t you excited?!)

When it comes to Getting Things Done, I’m a bit maddening. Just ask Bryan. I like to skip all the yucky projects and do the fun ones. Or start the fun projects until they get yucky, and then abandon them. I make schedules. I break schedules. I clean my house 15 minutes before you come over. Unless I’ve kept it meticulously clean all week.

On the Meyers-Briggs type indicator I am an INFX. An X, you say? There is no X in the Meyers-Briggs type indicator! There is if you score in the middle of the two types, which I did in the case of the P/J. Scoring in the middle of this particular … whatever you call it … explained a lot to me about why I’m such a weirdo. Why? Because, by way of the most basic explanation, a J prefers order and structure, and a P prefers flexibility and spontaneity.

It explained why, as a kid, I had more fun creating written schedules than following them. It explained why, at a particular job I had in NY, I worked in three different positions – creating or reorganizing each one, then getting completely bored with maintaining the work load. It explained why I loved buying new date books at the beginning of every year, but often forgot to use them by April-ish. It explained why I love making and prioritizing a to-do list, but end up doing whatever I feel like doing next.

When I find myself in a situation of chaos and disorder, I get a little overwhelmed and whip everything into shape. I break out the label maker, I make lists, I create schedules, because dammit – I WANT ORDER. That’s fun for awhile and I feel so free with everything put in its place – until I start to feel trapped by my own doing. Suddenly I can’t stand the predictability of something scheduled every day, and what if I don’t want to start my laundry by 1:00?, and a little clutter here and there looks homey. I throw all routine out the window and enter into the free-for-all zone, in which I wake up when a kid asks me for breakfast, stay home all day because I never figured out what to do, and decide what’s for dinner at 4:30 (And, oops! No meat thawed!).

Aaaand… then it’s back to scenario A in which I throw everything into order again.

See what I mean? Maddening. This system worked fine when I was single, but not so much with a family. Bryan is All J All The Time, so his preferred statement to me is usually, “I know you’re not very good with routines, but…” At which point I say something like, “F@*# you that I’m not good – look at all my schedules and to-do lists!” (That’s a paraphrase). And my kids never know what to expect so they just ask to watch t.v.

This summer has been interesting because Ruthie has had swimming lessons every morning for six weeks, and we have two more weeks to go. I thought I would hate being forced to leave the house every day, but I’ve actually appreciated the jump start to each day. We hang out at home in the morning and I Get Things Done, then we swim for half an hour, then we go do something fun before lunch and naps. The daily swim lessons have satisfied my need for order and routine, and the blank spots on either side have satisfied my need for flexibility and spontaneity.

Now I’m trying to resist the urge to whip out my notebook of graph paper and declare 10:00 as daily story time and Tuesdays as game night. I don’t think I’m ready for that, and I wouldn’t be successful at it anyway. I’m also trying to resist the urge to dig out a new garden area in my yard, as I still have walls with pink primer in my bedroom that I’m sure Bryan would like me to finally paint over.

The Great Purge of 2007

This morning my friend came over to help me tackle the spare-room-turned-storage-closet off the kitchen. This was Bryan’s office while we built out his new space in the basement, and after he moved out it became THE place for dumping anything we didn’t know what to do with. Most of what we moved out today was displaced Christmas decorations and camping gear – only a small amount was tossed or donated.

We did this in about an hour and a half, with three kids to manage as well. It was really a time saver to have a friend help, because as I sorted, she made piles. Then when we decided to quit, she watched the kids while I hauled everything to its respective storage spot. I think we’re about half way through the sort and purge portion of the project.

From now on, all eyes on you.

It’s the middle of the night and I’m catching up on some blog reading while watching my DVR’d shows. I don’t know why I continue to believe I am benefiting from this multi-tasking as if it’s somehow relaxing to be taking in two mediums at once – feeling simultaneously distracted by both and frustrated that I can not focus on the meaty-er parts of either one.

Much of what I read tonight inspires my own writing and my own faith journey, yet I am too exhausted from the information overload to formulate coherent thoughts of my own, which leaves me frustrated and definitely NOT relaxed. Often I wonder if my time would be better spent doing something else entirely, like reading a book, which I never consider doing with so much other stimulation to distract me.

ARGH! These bad habits are hindering my creative process and invading the Quiet Space I need to improve as a writer and a thinker.

The Great Purge of 2007

Last week I reorganized the storage areas in my bathroom. This came about mainly because random items were falling on me as I rummaged around looking for something, and I had a temper tantrum. The project only took an hour while the kids napped, but I had to sacrifice actually CLEANING the bathroom to get it done – only so much time in the day, you know?

The task uncovered a missing bag of cotton balls, forgotten bath toys, empty toilet paper rolls I had set aside for crafting, 3 nearly-empty sunscreen bottles, and three opened packages of maxi-pads. I was also able to toss or re-direct a bunch of stuff to make room for more storage.

Did I mention we had only one bathroom for three adults and two kids? Storage efficiency is of utmost importance.

We have a cabinet above the toilet…

Storage under the sink…

And one of four cubbies at the end of the tub…

Okay, now that I’m looking at these photos side by side I’m thinking that these areas were really not that bad to start with, so maybe I was just avoiding the nasty toilet that needed to be cleaned!

Blogging is way cheaper than therapy

Forever and always I am trying to wrap my head around how to keep my household in order and my children occupied, all while maintaining my own sanity as a rage-er. Today I have chosen to let them watch endless amounts of television so I can catch up.

The floor is sticky, the cabinets are grimy, my counters are cluttered, and there is dust and dog hair everywhere. I didn’t clean much the last two weeks, but boy did my kids feel loved and paid attention to! How do people do both? I just don’t get it.

Just as I was getting the kitchen cleaned up from breakfast, the kids came upstairs between shows to get a snack. Instantly I was on edge because they were grabbing, knocking, pulling, dumping, and pretty much undoing everything I had just done. I handed out snacks, kissed them with forced pleasantness, and sent them back downstairs to watch t.v. When I surveyed the damage done in under ten minutes I became discouraged at having to re-clean almost half of what I had just cleaned.

I don’t think my kids are particularly rambunctious – they have your average dose of curiosity about what is in that cup or under that pot lid or sticking out of the dishwasher, and in their clumsy curiosity spills and messes happen. I don’t even have high standards for what my house should look like. Usually I find a little dust here and a little clutter there can easily be justified as defining a ‘homey’ look….

– – –

Okay, I wrote all that this morning when I was feeling super duper frustrated, and now that the kids are napping and my house is clean I’m not feeling so frustrated. But my kids DID watch t.v. all morning, which I hate, but I hate it less than screaming at them all morning because they are so needy for me I can’t even vacuum a rug without someone hanging on my leg.

So I don’t know what the solution is, or even if there is one. Maybe I will just make Mondays a t.v. and pajama day so I can clean the house in peace. We usually don’t go anywhere after a busy weekend anyway. The only other idea I keep toying with is hiring a cleaning lady to come twice a month, which seems decadent but more like a sign of failure – it’s nice to think about letting somebody else clean my nasty toilet, but it also makes me wonder what in the world am I doing with my time all day if not cleaning the toilet?

My rational, well-adjusted voice tells me that This Too Shall Pass, and that these early years are just more difficult when the little ones are under foot all the time. And then I remember that Ruthie will go to preschool three mornings a week next fall, leaving me with plenty of time to get things done with just Thomas, who seems to more easily entertain himself. Now that I think about it, I believe this was part of my justification for having children so close in age – knowing that it will be hell at first, but then I get it all over with after just a few years.

Okay. I have just ‘talked’ myself out of a deep hole of despair, and I didn’t even need a drink to get me through it.

Did I mention that I love the Internet?

Thank you for listening.

The Great Purge of 2007

This morning I tackled my front porch, the first thing people see when they approach my door. It was not a welcoming sight, to say the least.

This project only took half an hour, mostly because it was uninterrupted time: Thomas was still sleeping, and Ruthie was working out her bad attitude alone in her room. It’s amazing what one can accomplish without interruption!

The beauty of the front porch got me on a roll, and I was able to pick up all the clutter in the living room and dining room as well, and get the vacuuming done.

These are the items I cleared off the porch that didn’t belong there:

leaves from last fall
snow shovel
ladder
garden shovels and rakes
accessories for a stroller we no longer own
snow boots
an old area rug
our current stroller’s rain cover
a pile of stuff intended for the goodwill
training potty (last used during the summer)

I really do feel my mind breathing a sigh of relief when my house is clean. Do you feel the same way?

The Great Purge of 2007

I purged this bookshelf in our living room of everything that has been dumped there by sheer convenience. I removed all the books that had no reason to be there except that I was too lazy to take them downstairs where they belonged. This collection now reflects what Bryan and I are currently reading, or plan to read.

It took me about twenty minutes to sort and rearrange, and another twenty minutes to sort the displaced books on the shelves in the basement – all while the kids napped.

When I break my projects down into simple tasks like this, it doesn’t seem so bad. Are you overwhelmed by crap to sort? Take one hour, and tackle one corner, or one flat surface. YOU CAN DO IT.

The Great Purge of 2007

I hate everything. More specifically, I hate everything in my house that makes me sneeze, trip, or stub my toe. It all. must. go.

I spent all morning, the other day, cleaning shit out of my room that didnâ€™t even belong there. Toys? Used diapers? Size 2T pajamas? DOES NOT BELONG IN MY ROOM.

I sorted through everything, including jewelry and shoes and perfume and anything else I havenâ€™t touched in a year. IT ALL MUST GO.

I should have taken a â€˜beforeâ€™ picture, but frankly it was so embarrassing I might have never shown my face in here again. I had crap piled on my dresser half way up the mirror, toys on the floor in the corner piled up to the top of the dresser, and enough wadded up used tissues next to my bed to make me look like Dolly Parton were I to stuff them in my bra.

I am a slob as it is, and my bedroom is the LAST place in my house to get cleaned.

But NO MORE! I am purging my house of all useless junk! Room by room I am going! This room only took me a couple of hours in one morning while the kids snuggled in my bed watching Nickelodeon.

I took out trash, I gave things away to friends, and I dropped the rest off at The Goodwill.

Today I finally got around to vacuuming.

Hallelujah.

Do you have crap in your house that must go? Set your timer for two hours and see what happens. I dare you.

In Praise of Bryan Zug

Yesterday afternoon Ruthie and I went to a birthday party, and while we were gone my super-husband cut the grass. We get into at LEAST one fight every summer over the reel mower we own (I love it, he hates it), so it was a big deal that he just decided to cut the grass and not complain about it.

He also hinted at another project he accomplished while we were gone, but wouldn’t tell me what it was. After spending the entire evening outside by the fire pit (first fire of the season!), I finally went in to find Ruthie some warmer clothes. It was then I noticed our large framed print in the living room had been hung on the wall correctly! And it looks great!

Bryan had given me a few concert posters from Over the Rhine for my birthday a few years ago. It took a year and a half to get one framed, then we hung it on the existing nail which was positioned lower for a smaller, horizontal print. Finally, a year after THAT, my print is hung in the right spot.

Yay for Bryan!

The t.v. Fast (Part II)

(For Part I, go here.)

When I was a kid I had an active imagination. I was as good as an only child since my brother graduated high school and left home when I was seven (which was also, I just realized, the year after my father left), so I created my own companionship in my mind. There was my imaginary friend, Tead Berglund, who eventually died of a broken arm when I outgrew him; and there was the time my parents and I drove from Minnesota to Maryland to visit relatives, and I spent the entire drive squished against the door of our silver Cutlass to make room for all my imaginary brothers and sisters in the car; and I filled notebooks â€“ the blank hardcover books with fabric covers â€“ with melodramatic stories that I wrote about children who persevered through tragic loss.

Lately Iâ€™ve been thinking a lot about my imagination, and the budding imagination I see in Ruthie, and how she completely zones out when watching t.v. Even in just the few days that weâ€™ve been without a television she has pretended over and over (and over) again that she is getting married, and she makes birthday cakes out of play-doh, and wraps up random items in a paper napkin to give away as presents. And she plays with Thomas, racing cars or they chase each other.

Maybe sheâ€™s done these things all along and I havenâ€™t noticed, but itâ€™s possible she is just now getting the opportunity to explore the wonders of her own mind.

Another routine I have established is spending time alone with Ruthie before Thomas wakes up. I started this a couple weeks ago, and we do it on the mornings she doesnâ€™t have preschool. We do a craft project that involves coloring, cutting, and gluing; we read books; I help her play a Dora the Explorer game on the computer, and other things that she can eventually learn to do independently, but for now enjoys my participation.

After Thomas wakes up I try to send them outside to play, or we go to a play date, or run errands, or visit the Aquarium or gymnastics club for their open gym time. These are all things weâ€™ve kept busy with in the last couple weeks, and I feel simultaneously empowered as a mother and exhausted as an introvert. I am connecting with my children; I am engaging; I am paying attention. This has been my ultimate goal since I began re-ordering my life back in November.

But still, as I begin to get healthier and manage my time more efficiently, I continue to crave time alone and feel â€“ perhaps rationally, perhaps irrationally â€“ that Iâ€™m not getting enough. Is it because Iâ€™m not getting enough? Or is it because Iâ€™m selfish and want more, more, more?

At the end of the day I feel like itâ€™s a crap shoot as to whether Iâ€™ll have the energy to do something that re-creates me or if I just crash on the couch with a remote. Tonight? I feel energized to explore my mind, and Iâ€™m wide awake because of it. Last night? I was like a fool, wandering aimlessly about the house and squandering away my time â€“ the later I stayed awake, the more frustrated I became with the emptiness of my actions. It was not time spent re-energizing my soul, and I should have just gone to bed when Bryan did.

I think over-all I enjoy life without excessive television, and I enjoy the routine Iâ€™m establishing, and Iâ€™m enjoying the activities Iâ€™m participating in with my children, and I enjoy getting up early in the morning. With all the puzzle pieces put together, I can stay ahead of the curve throughout the day.

But I have been morose today, and have been all week. Morose and irritable and on the verge of crying at any moment all day long. I canâ€™t explain it. Hormones? Busy planning a trip? Mourning a sick dog? Who knows. God does, and herein lies the issue: even with all things falling into place â€“ my routine, our financial stability, the achievement of goals â€“ even with all these great things, I still feel wretched in my heart.

And that, my friends, is a topic for another day.

The t.v. Fast

I havenâ€™t written much about any New Yearâ€™s Resolutions, mostly because I havenâ€™t had time to, which is actually a result of one of my goals. If youâ€™ve been following along with me for awhile, youâ€™ll know that Iâ€™ve been working my way back from depression and incapacitation, trying to get my household into order. I have been fairly successful in that venture, creating routines for cleaning the house and getting laundry done, and then making the decision to get out of bed by 6:30am so I can shower, drink my coffee, and clear my head before the kids wake up.

My latest human experiment has been to seriously limit the amount of television that Ruthie watches, and what has resulted has been bitter sweet. What I have discovered, is that I am just as addicted to Ruthieâ€™s t.v.-viewing as she is because I mostly use that opportunity as my own down time to take a quick snooze, draft a blog post, or surf the internet. My lack of thoughtful posts is a direct result of me not having the space to think, so I post what is quick and easy: photos and anecdotes about my day to day life. This is fun, too, and I enjoy it to a certain extent, but not writing thoughtfully also means I am not processing through many of my thoughts, which leads to short circuits in my brain from too many things bouncing around in there.

Without the t.v. on to babysit my children, I have been continuously engaged all. day. long. We do this, and we do that, and we go there – Iâ€™ll post more on my logistics later because weâ€™ve been doing some fun things. But less time watching t.v. also means that Ruthie has had more opportunity to be EXTREMELY DIFFICULT. But even now as Iâ€™m writing this, I realize that even though it is exhausting to deal with her strong-willed nature all. day. long, I am seeing how much easier it is to be consistent with disciplining her because I am not as distracted by other things.

Ironically (or perhaps, not), I sat her in front of the television the moment she woke up this morning â€“ mostly because she woke up early and I didnâ€™t get enough Introvert Recharging time, but also because Iâ€™m just DYING to have some time to myself. (Last night after we got the kids into bed, Bryan and I sat on the couch to watch t.v. and I grabbed my laptop, and he says to me, â€˜What are you doing? You need to snuggle with me.â€™ To which my response was to shout, only somewhat jokingly, â€˜I HAVENâ€™T CHECKED MY EMAIL SINCE TEN THIS MORNING â€“ GIVE ME A BREAK, WILL YOU?â€™ Yeah, Iâ€™m wound a little tight.)

So, all this is to say Iâ€™m on that continuous obnoxious journey to find the balance between being a mother/wife and being an individual person with her own wants/needs/wishes. Three days without television was probably a bit extreme, but it was helpful in determining what I am capable of. I think I will eventually find something in the middle, but I donâ€™t yet know what that looks like.

Things that Keep Me Dry

I lost a bit of blogging momentum over the busy holidays. I didn’t have much time for focused writing, and now that I’m getting back into the swing of my daily routine I’m not feeling all that compelled to dig deep just yet. So bear with me, Dear Internet, as I continue to bore you with photos and antidotes.

Last week brought a stretch of sunshine and, more importantly, no rain, which brought a crew of roofers in by the truck load. In less than one day the entire mass of them had stripped off three layers of shingles, cleaned up, and beat feet out of there, leaving nothing but a muddy mess on my back deck. And by ‘entire mass,’ I’m not exagerating. Those guys were EVERYWHERE – in my yard, on the street, milling about, looking up and pointing – there had to be 10-15 non-English speaking laborors, ready to take on my house.

(Oh, and the only reason I point out that they were non-English speaking, is that it took me having a conversation with 3-4 of them before I clued in that they were merely nodding at me, and not actually acknowledging what I was saying. So I finally asked for the foreman and they all pointed – all at once – to the truck across the street. They were very snap-to-it kind of guys.)

The next day two guys returned – one to stay on the roof, and the other to hand him sheets of metal – and they had great weather all week. Until yesterday and today. These poor guys are now working in the pouring rain, and it does not look fun.

Here is a shot of the roof we used to have, the moss and leaks into our stair well not fully visible:

And here is half of our sexy new metal roof, in a lovely shade of blue-ish teal:

It may look a little out of place at the moment, but picture a new coat of paint in the near future to brighten up the whole look.

And most importantly – no more leaking!

Never Let Them See You Sweat

If youâ€™ve ever been in labor, or had surgery, or an injury, or have otherwise been assisted in pain management, you may have been told to â€˜stay ahead of the pain.â€™ Donâ€™t let it surprise you or overtake you, donâ€™t let the pain meds wear out before you take your next dose, position yourself for the next wave â€“ stay ahead of it.

I often feel like parenting small children is the same way â€“ donâ€™t let the little bastards get ahead of you. If you get distracted, or have an unplanned afternoon, or donâ€™t have your shit together before they wake up, then itâ€™s all over for you and their antics will consume you and youâ€™ll never get a hold of it again. You might as well ride it out and start again the next day.

After nearly four years of parenting, this is what I have FINALLY figured out.

It is no longer working for me to put the kids to bed, stay up late doing my own thing, then sleep in until they wake me up. The morning just goes very, very, bad when Iâ€™m trying to get my bearings while Ruthieâ€™s chipper voice continually asks, â€œCan I have some cereal, Mom? Can I watch t.v., Mom? Can I have a piece of candy, Mom? â€¦â€ before Iâ€™ve even had my coffee. When this happens, I rarely shower before 1pm or take the kids anywhere besides the gym, not to mention the chaos of the preschool mornings when I have to be out the door by 8:30.

So, for a couple of days this week I experimented with getting up at 6am. The trick is to get up without waking HER up, because if SHEâ€™S up, then it kind of defeats the purpose of ME getting up so early. So far Iâ€™ve been successful in that. I grabbed my coffee, put in my contacts, made a plan for the day, did some computer work, and showered.

As much of a morning person as I am NOT, I actually accomplished a lot in the 1+ hours before Ruthie came down stairs. And whatâ€™s more, Iâ€™m feeling ahead of the game today with all my ducks in a row for appointments and dinner.

But I still hate mornings.