This time of year is more New Yearsy than New Years don’t you think? New clothes. Fresh starts. A heightened energy.
Even for me who has not done this ‘back to school’ thing since college, 1996 and who does not yet have kids on their way. I suppose it is conditioned in us after twenty some years of that same nervous exhilaration at this time of year. With cooler air and warmer clothes, we march off to school, determined to make it a better year than the one before.
I guess it is that energy that has me in mass organization mode. Rearranging the girls play area (errr, corner nook rather) but more importantly, getting the computer in order. Organizing all my folders and bookmarks was in dire need for all the mass confusion and frustration it was bringing me everyday. That is done and I feel, I don’t know, lighter? Calmer certainly.
But just when you think calm is the order of the day, you decide to organize the clothes. Boxes, drawers, rooms of clothes. Seriously people, is it just me, or do you often feel like the pittance-paid slave of an assembly line clothing factory? I do not mind laundry so much. But sorting the girls clothing out is getting to be a bit much. And re-sorting after Bal thinks he’s sorted is just plain ol’ sending me over the edge.
We have Kaya’s 8-drawer dresser and Brennyn’s 6-drawer dresser. We have a diaper box of Will-Be-B’s Box (okay, like 4 of them). We have Kaya’s Will-Still-Fit-(Maybe)-Next-Season Box. We have clothes-to-donate box and we have the (too full) can’t-bare-to-part-with box.
All of it being worn, washed, (repeat endlessly), rotated, and tossed (not folded) into corresponding boxes.
Tell me parents of two or more, especially of the same-sex child, is this what the next 15 years of my life will be?
If I were religious I may plea “Oh Lord have mercy child!” If I were Buddhist a simple “Ommm…” may be in order.
Instead I will do as the wise sages of motherhood have done through the tests of time.
I will drink wine.
Which is, in all honesty, a total crock of shit. I can’t afford wine. So to keep it real, I will do as the silly, techno-freaky mamma’s of today do.
I will blog.