A Basket of Sanity

"If you don't fill your time, someone else will gladly fill it for you." 

If I really wanted to, I could easily spend the entire day, sun up to sun down, tidying the house. First I'd dedicate a couple hours to picking up bits of Legos, discarded bookmarks, errant shoes, handfuls of gems too special to toss out, pajamas crumpled and kicked halfheartedly across the bedroom floor. I'd feel frustrated at the lack of a dedicated home for each of these things, which would then force me to do some light rearranging, start a donation pile and do a lot of heavy sighing. From there, I'd pick up the 10 or so pots on the kitchen floor, each with 2" of water and a handful of blueberries because the baby is in that very sweet stirring-obsessed phase. Moving on from there, my handy broom and standing dust pan would make an entrance so I could start at the front of the house, sweeping mindlessly while muttering quietly to myself, keenly aware of the resemblance I bear to those who perform this task for hours, days on end at the airport. 

While I busied myself with these seemingly necessary, never ending chores, my mind would always be one step beyond, thinking of what I'll do as soon as I'm done with these "few things." Daydreaming about what I'd rather be doing. When the last pile is swept, the mop squeezed and settled back into its corner, the dryer thumping and dishwasher humming I pour myself a cup of tea and prepare to dive into my work. As soon as I sit back in my chair I hear it; "Maaaaaa!" Baby. A quick glance at the clock shocks me into reality - barely enough time to throw together snacks, nurse and change a little one and dash out the door to bring big kids home from school. 

It could look like this. That realization that willingly or not you've given over the inspired and productive parts of each day to others, to tasks that will never be completed, never crossed permanently off a list. Each day we make that sacrifice we pick up a little pebble and move it from the unswept floor to a little sack. We carry that sack with us everywhere we go. When we have moments of frustration and feel unappreciated, aware that no one gives a shit how we spent our day or that the dress-up clothes are sorted by flora/fauna/historical figure we drop that sack. The pebbles inside spill out everywhere and all that sweeping is undone. Each of those pebbles is a tiny kernel of resentment that we've dutifully collected and carried, weighing us down until it's simply too much. And there before us stand our sweet children, eyes wide with surprise and confusion at our anger and frustration because they never knew we didn't want to do those things, that cleaning and organizing wasn't "fun" for us. That we would rather be doing something else. The satisfaction of an orderly home seemed to be what made us happier than anything. How could they know it wasn't true? We're grown ups! We can do whatever we want! 

It's so easy to let this be the reality when your primary role is to be available and responsible for others. But I don't think deciding to do what makes me happy means compromising and living in filth. I'm honest with my kids and husband that I function best in a home that is tidy. Especially important when you have five people, two dogs and a house bunny cohabitating in just over 1,000 square feet. And I would say generally speaking, they respect this. There are a few things I've done to foster this but probably the biggest is that I just stopped. Cold turkey. If I didn't want to spend the morning scrubbing toilets I simply didn't. And that wasn't to say that they didn't need to be scrubbed, it just meant that it wasn't always going to be done by me. There was no harping and nagging, it was just presented to them in a very matter of fact way; five people could do all these things much quicker than one. I reminded them of the times that they wanted me to play soccer/go on a bike ride/make smoothies/help tie a rope from the shed to the trampoline and I'd said I couldn't. Because I felt buried under a pile of laundry and dishes and spilled beads and table crumbs and confetti. This struck them as unfair, too. If I were to be liberated, even a bit, from my role as family Cinderella, I'd have time not only for what I wanted to do but also what they wanted me to do. Oooohhhhh! 

Yes, I've had to let go of some of my more obsessive tendencies and accept a degree of floor stickiness that I'm not always thrilled by but overall the responsibility for tidiness has become more equal - boys tidy their room each day and put away their own laundry. They load and unload the dishwasher when asked and once a week they clean the bathrooms. The older one handles tubs, showers and sinks, the middle one has a bizarre love for toilet scrubbing so we don't intervene. They take out recycling, compost and trash, sweep up after meals and set/clear the table. We've done away with a delegated list of chores and approach it more as, "Here's what needs to happen and we don't care who does it. Please sort it out." And they do. There's a fair amount of fighting and critiquing and cries of injustice but the reality is, allll of these tasks, when divided, take less than five minutes to do. So the less arguing and complaining, the sooner they are done. And we all have our freedom. 

Most days I'm no longer putting pebbles in that sack that weighs a mother down. When I come together again with the boys after school and they ask what I did that day I'm able to tell them the mundane bits but my report is also filled with meeting friends, creating, hiking or finding an interesting new book. Just as they spend their day filled with inspiration, friends and learning, I've chosen the same for myself. 

There are, of course, still some bits and books and things left around throughout the day. Rather than bemoan these strays and harp on the boys when they get home, we've found a better solution. THE BASKET! We keep a decent sized wire basket on our bench and whenever I find a toy or something they've missed I just toss it in. I pick these up, quickly toss them in and don't have to give it a second thought. When the basket is full, they have to empty it and put things in their homes. When they can't find something, the basket is usually the first place I direct them. If tempers are flaring and someone needs something productive to do they are often directed to the basket. 

And that is how my sweet Bird came across his Opposite of Far lemur mask. For kiddos who are into animals and dressing up, you're sure to find something they'll love. Trying to choose just one is almost impossible, which is what makes the Mask of the Month Club such an ingenious idea. Kids can learn about endangered animals and get something special in the mail. We decided to let Jonah choose his own mask each month so he's impatiently keeping an eye on the mail box waiting for his badger to arrive. Jessica, the owner and creator, is beyond helpful and will gladly answer questions. Plus, I give anyone who promptly and cheerfully responds to emails in the middle of the Christmas rush major kudos.