i am disorganized

I crave organization.  Spacious closets and neat drawers.  Clear countertops and floors clear of clutter.  A garage you can park in.  But it isn't natural for me.  I don't know why - clearly, it isn't an inherited gene, disorganization, because my mother's house has a storage bin or a drawer for everything.  She has three drawers in a dresser dedicated solely to her jewelry.  And her garage is like toys r us.  With bins for race tracks, games, action figures and toy kitchen supplies.  I can't even keep all the puzzle or game pieces in one place.

But my mom's house is not what gets to me the most.  It's those ads for organization from places like The Container Store.  Have you ever noticed that they have like three shirts hanging in a closet or one fork in the slots the silverware tray?  My house would be organized also if I only had five pieces of silverware or 2 pairs of pants. 

Seriously, why would I need a shelf if this is all I had to put on it?

Or why would I need a tray if these are all the utensils I had?

Something about these ads is freeing to me.  I realize how ridiculous the standard we set for ourselves is.  Who lives like this??  I'm all about downsizing and simplifying, but I'll take my disorganization any day over the need to meet an iimpossible standard.

but (at least) i am NOT "that" woman

On the topic of judgment, and therefore insecurity (because that's where judgment comes from isn't it?), we all like to compare ourselves.  We all like to know someone is more neurotic, messier, less organized, less put together, not as smart, or generally, crazier, than us - don't we? 

I had a series of weird things going on with my body for almost two months.  This led me to more doctor's visits than I have had in the past several years combined.  And lots of tests.  Seriously - two CT scans, an ultrasound (not the kind for pregnancy - just to be clear), blood tests, and lots of evaluations.  These very expensive hoops I jumped through led to two conclusions.  (1) I was stressed out (really? someone gets paid to tell me that?) and (2) I had a sinus infection - no kidding, a CT scan told me I had a sinus infection.  While all this was occurring, I worried every time I called the doctor.  Not that I had some life threatening illness, but that that there was some flag on my file that said "hypochondriac" or that my insurance company was going to start denying my visits. 

I seriously felt like a crazy person.  And then, of course, I would have to compensate for that.  Every time I called to make an appointment, I would say something like "it's me again. ..."  Or when I would go into the exam room, I would make sure to say to the nurse AND then again to the doctor, "you know, this isn't like me.  I feel like you must think I'm crazy."

Most of the time, they brushed me off, but on one visit, the nurse said, "honey, you have no idea, we have one lady who is here 3 times a week and inssits on calling several times a day."  Amazingly, just her saying this made me feel SO much better. 

How sad is that?  Some poor lady out there has serious issues that cause her to constantly be calling the doctoer, but somehow that makes me feel better.  I need someone to be crazier than me.  So I can say "at least I'm not her." 

I know we all do it, but I want to move past that level of insecurity - to where I don't care if I'm "that" woman and hopefully, "that" woman doesn't care if I approve of her or not.

i am "that" mom

I remember judging other moms.  The ones who yelled at their kids in the grocery store.  Or the ones whose really young kids said things from movies that were inappropriate.  Or the ones whose kids had dirty fingernails and dirty faces, or whose kids ran around uncontrolled at church gatherings, or the ones who let their little boys play with toy weapons.  I could go on, but you get the point. 

I am that mom that I used to judge.  Maybe you judge me now.  Or maybe you are older and wiser and you laugh at me because you know.  Some of you may even have compassion when I lose it in Wal-Mart.  Or when my 5 year old talks about "flaming sacks of doo-doo" (thank you Penguins of Madagascar) or when my 2 year old's teacher tells the nanny (because I'm "that" mom and the teacher barely knows me), "he keeps saying 'Oh poop' and the other kids are saying it . . . .."  (thank you Despicable Me).  Or when I sit my kids in front of the TV becuase I just need some time to get things done.  Or when my kid who sucks his thumb (at 5) has really dirty fingernails.  Or when my kids are running around and around the buffet table at the church dinner even after they have been told time and again to stop.  Or when my 2 year old runs around with a Star Wars gun saying "I kill you." 

I am that mom. 

But you know what?  My 2 year old spontaneously says "I love you mama" on a regular basis.  And my five year old begs for me to read him Bible stories.  And the 2 year prays for literally everyone he knows when we remember to say prayers at bedtime . . ...  And they sleep in the same bed together and hold hands sometimes when they walk down the hall together.  And they are healthy and beautiful and funny. 

I'm not taking credit for all of that because there are a lot of people to thank.  But I have learned that as silly as everyone thought it sounded at the time, it really does take a village.  And mom's aren't perfect - any of them.  And my kids learn from imperfections as much as from the things I do right. 

And now, I really try to never judge but to always look at other moms (and dads) with compassion. 


Thank you to those of you who show me compassion when you see (or hear) me in Wal-Mart.