Recovering Packrat

I am a recovering packrat. I come from a long line of packrats. Now, I think that packrat can be a euphemism for hoarder and I think hoarding more accurately describes my predecessors' behavior. That being said, I have worked long and hard against fully embracing that trait.

I remember from a young age that I had a tough time throwing things out. I tended to attach emotion to items and then couldn't bring myself to throw out the item. In high school physics, we had to make a bridge out of pasta that had to bear a certain amount of weight. It was a project I left to the last minute and my mom, God bless her, helped me build it anyway.

The next day in class, everyone took turns with their bridges. The rest of the class took joy in seeing what the breaking point was for their bridges. Not me. When I saw that it bore the correct amount of weight, I stopped adding weight. I kept that bridge for several years and it gathered dust in my room. My mom (as I remember it) didn't have a lot of patience for my brother and me. She has taught first grade for 20+ years and it seemed like she expended all of her patience with those kids. That she took the time to build the pasta bridge with me made a big impression.

I kept notes of all varieties from middle school rolled up and bound with a rubber band. I kept papers from high school that I just knew would turn into great term papers in college (they didn't). I kept drafts upon drafts of papers from different English classes, I held onto different school projects, I kept all sorts of momentos.

My mom will tell you this is perfectly normal behavior. My dad, on the other hand, tosses things out without compunction. Growing up, he would let the paper avalanche in our kitchen reach fever pitch and then, with impunity, would start throwing things away.

I grew up in this dueling atmosphere, where my mom accused my dad of throwing everything away and my dad grew increasingly frustrated with the clutter. It was an interesting dichotomy and I felt an internal struggle for a long time.

After college, I read a book about feng shui and that started to shift my attitude about "stuff." It was also around that time that Peter Walsh started hosting a show on TLC about helping people with their clutter. I started reading different books about organization and de-cluttering. I discovered, through a friend, www.flylady.net, a website created by Marla Cilley. All of these people and books agreed on one thing; the "stuff" is a symptom of something deeper. The "stuff" has more to do with what's going on internally than most realize.

So I went into a huge purge cycle. I cleared out something like 13 garbage bags of stuff from my room at my mom's house. It started a journey that I'm still travelling today.

You see, I'm also a perfectionist. I've not found recovery from that, though, and so as I'm writing this entry, I'm sitting at a desk that is full of "stuff." There is a barette of Bekah's, stickers, blank CDs, bills, address labels, scrapbooking stuff, etc. It is not organized, it is not pretty and it is overwhelming my life and my sense of self.

I am now more like my dad in that I don't hold onto every little thing. I got the idea to take pictures and then throw away/recycle/Goodwill the items. The problem is, I haven't been able to keep up with it for some time. It's overwhelming and discouraging and it's preventing me from experiencing peace.

FLYlady is great because she encourages baby steps. Her idea is that if you work 15 minutes a day, you will eventually organize your entire house. The problem is budgeting 15 minutes every day to do it. I bought a timer that she sells on her website so I could do it the "right" way. I lost the timer; of course, this means I can't do it--nevermind that I've got a timer on my stove and my iPhone.

Peter Walsh is a little harsher and/or more realistic. He also suggests taking baby steps in trying to tackle the clutter problem. In "Does This Clutter Make my Butt Look Fat," he suggests trying to conceptualize what the purpose is for each room in the house. He thinks it's okay to set a boundary with the kids that toys don't belong in mommy and daddy's room. He suggests talking with your partner/spouse about what their expectation is for each space in your house.

I have even helped other people get organized! I have been paid by friends to help them streamline, declutter and simplify. It's easier for me to help other people because I have no emotional involvement in the "stuff."

So I took some drastic measures. Last year, a lady named Stacey from Ace of Space spoke to a mother's group in which I'm involved. I wasn't able to make the meeting, but I knew that I wanted to contact her and ask for her help. She came over last week and I knew I had made the right decision. She wasn't judgemental in the least. I felt at ease with her, I didn't feel shame in showing her around the house, and she was great in dealing with multiple interruptions from Bekah.

She is going to start coming over every week for a few hours to help me. It will probably take a long time to complete the task, but even having her over felt like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. The extent to which my house is cluttered is embarrassing and does weigh on me in a very real way. I cannot scrapbook because my scrapbooking desk is completely covered in "stuff." Laundry is unmanageable because my laundry room is cramped and filled with clothing of all shapes and sizes. My kids' closets are all stuffed with clothes, their dressers are stuffed and clothes, sheets and assorted other items are spilling out from every corner.

I can't relax at night becuase I feel like the clutter is threatening to attack me. I will say, though, that I have a much lower tolerance than I used to for clutter. My house is not going to be featured in an episode of "Hoarders." I am not someone who frequents thrift stores or buys organizational stuff that just sits, unused. Peter Walsh's philosophy that we don't need more organization, we need less stuff, is a philosophy that I've adopted.

I do make multiple trips to Savers on a monthly basis. I am trying to teach my kids about how important it is that we share our toys with kids who don't have any. I put away our coffeemaker because I don't drink coffee. I try to make small steps, but it's so far gone that small steps just aren't cutting it.

I am hoping, though, that with Stacey's help and with regular work on my part, I will be able to share before and after pictures in a few months that will make me feel lighter. I'm hopeful that clearing the clutter from my house will also clear away "body clutter" (FLYlady's language). I know that one of the reasons I'm carrying extra weight is that the clutter in my house is masking emotions I'm not ready to face.

I'm grateful, too, that the de-cluttering is going to start in February. I hate doing what is expected and I know that most stores cater to those who want to finally get organized. How fortunate that I'm not going to start adopting these philosophies until after the organization pandemonium at stores has died down.

I would hate to be like everyone else.

Quickie

I've not been writing because I've been fighting a very powerful case of bronchitis/pneumonia. It's been a long week. Last night was rough; Brian discovered that Doug had thrown up in his crib.

I got busy cleaning up, doing laundry, etc., and Brian was on vomit duty. I had made a feeble attempt to work out using Just Dance 4--it kicked my butt, BTW--so I was wheezing and coughing and struggling to cool down and catch my breath.

Doug is usually not sick. He had a period of time last year when he was getting regular ear infections, but other than that he's kind of a tank. It was painful to watch him last night; he would walk around, playing, until the urge to vomit struck. Then he would waddle over to me, crying, and throw up. That cycle repeated well past midnight.

Meanwhile, Bekah and Jeremy (who had both taken naps) were playing raucously in their room. During one of the times Doug was throwing up and I was going to the bathroom, Brian saw the lightning and knew what was coming next. I know that some people like thunderstorms, but my kids are not in that group of people.

As he was dealing with Doug throwing up, he had to somehow take him upstairs (meanwhile the gate is up) to get the kids.

Not our family's finest hour, to be sure.

Doug finally fell asleep around 12:30 and then I set up camp on the couch. I have been coughing a lot at night and I didn't want to upset the kids' sleep (they ended up camping in our room). I coughed myself awake at 7 this morning, just to hear the little patter of feet on the laminate.

I am blessed because Brian put me on quarantine and stayed home to help me take care of the kids. Bekah was super excited about "wear your bathing suit to school day" and I knew I wouldn't convince her that we needed to stay home. It's tough, at this age, to carpool because of car seat configuration.

I was able to sleep a little this morning and a little this afternoon. I am hoping that the Levaquin will knock the socks off this infection. It is very tough to be a mommy and not feel well.

In the Desert

I am frustrated and so I'm writing. I hope this eases my frustration and helps me sleep.

For years, I have felt like a stranger in a strange land. From 2003 to 2004, I lost about 60-70 pounds. I went from smoking a pack and a half of cigarettes to running marathons. I went from being extremely sedentary to extremely active.

I never reached my goal weight-I couldn't lose the last 30 or so pounds. At that time, I had no kids, a gym membership and time to burn. My downfall started in 2006, when I committed to running two full and two half marathons in one year.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but what happened was I got burnt out. I lost my passion for running. I also started working retail-the odd schedule wasn't conducive to a healthy lifestyle.

So here I am, blogging, feeling uncomfortable. When I lost that weight, it was invigorating. I felt energized, I felt light, I felt joyful. Making smart food choices was key, but without the healthy movement, I don't think I would have lost that much weight.

I've started and stopped eating plans (I don't diet, but I do try to make better choices with my food). I have refocused my eating plan recently to include freshly-ground wheat. I bought the tools that I would need to make bread for my family. For three months, I've not bought a single loaf of bread from the store.

About a week ago, I started a few more habits. I am drinking 16 ounces of water before I eat anything in the morning, I am taking a fish oil and vitamin D supplement, I'm avoiding distractions while I'm eating.

But I'm stymied with movement. I discovered early into my running career that I have very low arches. It means I wear orthotics and need to spend more money to have specific shoes. Investing in my feet has paid off in that I've stayed largely injury-free, but in times of financial difficulty I struggle to buy new shoes.

The last couple of years, I have purchased two pairs of shoes at tax return time and those have been my shoes all year. The problem is that this last year, I started running again. This caused my shoes to wear more quickly. In December, I started working out again only to also start experiencing back pain. My shoes need replaced and I've no resources to replace them.

It is what it is, though. I'm not trying to get someone to buy me new shoes; I'm just saying, it's frustrating. For me, a healthy lifestyle has to include healthy movement. It's not just about weight-loss; it is about good mental health.

I am a better mom, wife, daughter, etc., when I work out. I am frustrated because I'm impatient; I wish the weight were coming off faster. I am frustrated because I can't believe I've been on this journey for so long. I learned this week about how Abram's impatience with God caused strife with Sarai, Hagar and himself.

Hagar means flight. My notes say, "Perhaps she represents those, who, because of others or because of their own shortcomings, find life increasingly unpleasant. They try to escape from their difficulty instead of facing it with God's help and trusting Him to make a way for him."

So maybe God wants me just to wait for my new shoes. I want to finagle them as an early birthday gift. I want to eat rice and beans for four weeks straight (exaggeration) to afford my shoes. But from what am I running? Maybe God is simply telling me, "wait, Sue. Wait and see what I have for you. It's so much better than finagling shoes. Travel with me; even if the journey is longer than you expect, the outcome is so much better than you could ever imagine."

Maybe I'll just stay frustrated and uncomfortable. I may not be cheerful about it, but I'll do it.

Comedy, Toddler Style

I always love when comedians talk about their kids. It is, for me, the funniest part of their routine. I think kids are full of comic potential because they say whatever is on their mind. There is no filter. It is also the same for people over 65. It's like people after that age say, "screw it-I've gone long enough without speaking my mind."

My kids erupt with funny thoughts all the time. If I were more organized, I would keep a pad of paper with me at all times. I would write them down, maybe even frame them.

Tonight was a perfect example. We all sat down to dinner together. We frequently don't, simply because I'm not that together. Tonight, we set the kids up at their small table so Brian and I could sit together at the big table. (We're currently experiencing a chair shortage.)

I gave the kids strawberries until their dinner cooled down. I knew, before I served the pork chop, tater tots and broccoli, that Jeremy would eat the broccoli and turn his nose up at everything else. I knew Bekah would eat most of it, starting with the tots.

It started off fine, with them at their table, until they started sword-fighting with their forks. I was a little more long-suffering because I had a good nap. Brian, however, was not so patient. He gave a stern warning, then escalated with a threat of early bedtime.

The sword-fighting stopped, but there was still pushing and shoving. Finally, Brian issued the command to get ready for bed. We stayed the order to allow them both to have a drink; afterwards, it was all business.

Meanwhile, I had a hankering for brownies. I had mixed them up during the time I was serving dinner. I was waiting for the oven to cool, so they didn't manage to start baking until after dinner.

At this point, Jeremy and Bekah are in bed and the brownies are baking. Brian comes back downstairs, gets Doug, takes him upstairs. Brian and I then settle into our normal evening activity of watching TV.

Normally, after bedtime, there are a number of clanks, loud noises and exclamations involved in the kids going to bed. We've become accustomed to that and tonight was no exception. We shouted up at them a few times to get back in their room and they acquiesced.

I will digress a bit to say that both Brian and I worry about how often we lose our temper with our kids. We also remark that our kids don't understand when to stay away from us. When I was growing up, if my mom or dad lost it with me, I steered clear of them for quite a while.

Bekah and Jeremy? Yeah, not so much. Sometimes the words from my tirade are still hanging in the air as they ask, "mommy, can I have milk?" It's become quite a curiosity, honestly. Brian and I often shake our heads; we can't tell if it's a lack of awareness on their part or if they simply know we are all bark and no bite.

In any case, I felt we made it pretty clear tonight that they were to stay in their room. Imagine my surprise, then, when Jeremy came strolling around the corner asking, "mommy, are the brownies baked yet?"

It's one of those moments when you can't contain the laughter except through sheer willpower. I tried not to laugh too hard when answering, "no, they're not yet, but you're not having one." To which, he answered (without skipping a beat), "no, mommy, I'm not going to eat one, I just want to know if they're baked yet."

My conclusion? They're just crazy.

A Burden Lifted

I have not been blogging because I have been in a serious funk. That's probably when I need to blog the most, but c'est la vie. I am writing tonight because today has been a day filled with great news.

For those that don't know, we have been struggling financially for about 3 1/2 years. It's been an arduous journey trying to navigate our mortgage and other bills. We have had many setbacks and unexpected expenses that have threatened our very tenuous hold on things.

Several months ago, we applied for refuge under Illinois Hardest Hit. Initially it seemed like we would be approved; just before Thanksgiving, however, things hit a snag. We heard for sure at the beginning of December that we were approved. Unfortunately, communication from Wells Fargo has always been lacking. We were assigned a case manager toward the end of December but didn't hear from her until today.

The news is better than we could have imagined. Our mortgage is paid through May of this year. Our first mortgage payment is in June. This was, by far, some of the best news we've had in years. This means we can use our tax refund to pay off some medical bills that have been lurking. It means we can clear the books of outstanding debt so we can focus our full power on paying the mortgage.

I do not exaggerate when I say yesterday was probably the darkest day I've had in a while. In addition to this mess, we found out that the director of our children's preschool left unexpectedly in December. Most preschools do registration in January; this left no lead time to try and research other options. I was frazzled trying to figure out how/where/by what means we were going to send the kids to preschool. I am still adjusting to medicating Jeremy and it's been a time-management crunch to make sure he gets his full dose every day. It's my first week back to school with everyone and I'm frazzled trying to get everyone everywhere (and on time).

Well, Brian and I had a few conversations about what our course of action should be. Brian said that if the interim director would be staying for next year, we should keep the kids there. Lo and behold, a conversation with her today revealed that she will be staying there!! Problem solved--no need to tie myself in knots trying to find a new school.

Yesterday at BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) we learned more about Abram and his journey. God made him a promise--that he would bear a son and his offspring would be greater than the stars. Abram, though he was a strong man of God, experienced doubt. He knew that God was faithful but he was honest with God about his doubts. Beth (our lecturer) kept telling us; God never breaks his promises.

You can understand why, after this long and arduous journey, I have had my own numerous doubts. I have had reason to shake my fist at God, to gnash my teeth, to ask why. When I heard that message yesterday it was as if Beth was talking directly to me. Today, a mere 24 hours later, I have seen the fulfillment of God's promises. It really is amazing.

Do I think it's all going to be smooth sailing? Probably not. Life is life and we are humans living in a fallen world. I am so grateful, though, that even though my faith waned I never let the light completely extinguish.

The last bit of good news is about Doug. He had a really rough time gaining weight from the time he was born. He was classified as Failure to Thrive, had acid reflux and multiple ear infections (those last two contributed, I think, to his inability to gain weight). In October, at his 15-month well-baby check, he was in the 22nd percentile for his weight. Today, at his 18-month well-baby check, he was in the 74th percentile.

God is so good! You have no idea how many tears I shed worrying about Doug's weight!! I was so concerned that he just wasn't going to be able to bulk up and here, in the midst of the other promises being fulfilled, God decided to throw this one is as a bonus.

I am going to bed tonight feeling lighter than I have in months (even though the scale hasn't budged). I know God says we can leave our burdens at his feet; it's my fault for picking them back up all the time. These fulfilled promises taste so sweet and have filled me spiritually in a way I haven't felt for a long time. I know that God is the author of all good things and I praise him without end that He is faithful. And that He never breaks His promises.

My Sweet Man

Jeremy doesn't put on pretenses. Wherever he is, he is the same. There is some sense of comfort in that. I know some moms attend conferences only to hear that their child takes on a different persona in the classroom. Brian and I spent most of our latest conference nodding and laughing.

Within the past month, Brian and I noticed our toilet paper consumption increased by quite a bit. Figuring out what happens in a house with small people is always a chore. Imagine the "Who's on First?" sketch. It goes something like this:

Me: "Jeremy, where is the toilet paper?"
Jeremy: "I used it to go potty."
Me: "why did you need to use so much?"
Jeremy: "Because that's why I used it."

It would be comical if it weren't so real, trust me. I noticed the uptick in toilet paper usage but my powers of observation were lacking. It wasn't until a couple weeks later that I realized that the cardboard cores were missing, too. Even armed with that information, I still thought Jeremy was just using too much paper.

He's always liked to eat paper. His first pediatrician trained us to look for what was different. He's always had a weird proclivity for it. Recently, I found him chomping on Bekah' artwork; I assumed it was a jealousy thing.

The other night, though, was the last straw. After the kids had gone to bed, Brian found him in our room. Specifically, he was in our linen closet, looking for toilet paper. In his words, he "wanted to take the toilet paper to his room so he could eat it."

A visit to his pediatrician today confirmed a diagnosis of anemia (pica often accompanies anemia). There are things we can do to treat it, but my heart was breaking because he kept asking for his sister and brother. He asked for them when Dr. Gronberg examined him, when the nurse pricked his finger and as the visit stretched out.

The rest of the story is that Dr. Gronberg asked me if Jeremy has been anxious lately. I got choked up again. He has been hating school. He has told me at various times that he's not a school guy, that there's no way he's going to school, etc. He is very popular at school and at church, has a lot of compassion and is incredibly empathic.

But he's very high-strung. He's always been very rigid in the way he sees the world. My dad bought him a Playskool Ball Popper several years ago. No one else is allowed to play with it because they don't play with it correctly. He obsessively closes all doors in our house, wears a baseball cap at all times of the day (except in the tub and at school), won't let anything extraneous sit on his placemat.

So Dr. Gronberg suggested that he see a counselor. I cried again, not (as my father suggested) because my son is not "normal"; rather, I cried because my 5-year-old has already almost died twice, been hospitalized four times, undergone numerous medical procedures and tests. In short, he doesn't deserve this.

I don't understand why God wouldn't help him out. I don't understand why God wouldn't shield him from this. It makes no sense to me and it pisses me off. I have a sense that he is destined for greatness but at this rate, greatness will have to happen soon.