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My parents have just arrived for a week-long visit, which is exciting and wonderful because living 1,000 miles apart means we never see enough of each other. I look forward to having them here, and once they are, it of course doesn't matter if my house is clean or not.
Except.
Except that while I'm getting ready for them to arrive, I develop something of a cleaning sickness. It's like clockwork; it's completely predictable, and yet it catches me by surprise each and every time. Do my parents care if my house is neat and tidy? Do they judge me based upon how many piles sit on my desk or how many socks are under my children's beds or whether the kitchen sink gleams? Of course not. They're here to visit, not grade my housekeeping skills.
Still, every time they come, I spend a couple of days before their arrival completely freaking out about the state of my house.
If I'm going to get all deep about it (and of course I am), I know that it's not about how the house looks or worries about what my parents think. Their impending arrival is simply a trigger for me, one that says, "Don't look now, but you're supposed to be a grownup, and grownups don't do the things you do." In this context, "things I do" include things like not being able to find my son's prescription once I arrive at the pharmacy, because I've shoved it in my purse and now as I stand there I realize my purse is laden with receipts and slips of paper and everything, it seems, but that damn prescription. It includes things like being overdue for a mammogram because I'm sure the referral paperwork is here on my desk... somewhere. It includes things like not having bothered to look behind the curtain in the kids' shower for... ummm... okay, I'm going to plead the 5th on this one.
I want my house to be clean and look pretty, sure. More than that, I want to feel like I have everything under control.
The reality is that I have a husband, career, two children, house, garden, a dozen other responsibilities, and a propensity for putting paper into piles and vowing to deal with it "later." Control is a pretty fluid concept in my life at this time, to put it mildly.
But I can't shake the feeling that it starts with better organization. And so -- when the visit is imminent, and I feel that urge to scurry about with a dust rag in hand -- I clean and sort and pitch. And by the time my folks arrive, my desk is tidy. The laundry is done. I've emptied out my purse. The mildew has been vanquished. I've been to the grocery store (which I never managed last week.) And I've even gone and done things like given the children a basket to put their piano books in, after the umpteenth time of noticing the books all over the floor by the piano. This reminds me that baskets are pretty useful, and I add a couple more to my office, to help me control the clutter in there.
Everything is clean and orderly. It makes me feel calm and happy. I love it.
It never lasts. I'm not sure why. The piles start accumulating again, I shove things into my purse for "later," we run out of time to tidy up one night and promise to do it in the morning and never do.
Oh, well. My parents will be back again in a few months....
Have organization on the brain? So do plenty of other bloggers!
Maryjo of reSPACEd reminds us that organization is about function, not appearance.
Sarah Welch of Buttoned Up wonders if women are addicted to "org porn."
Saver Queen says that organization is at the heart of frugality (if just plain organization isn't enough to motivate you).
Stacey Crew is The Organizing Mama, and while she has awesome tips for families to stay organized, I suspect many of her suggestions would work for those sans kids, as well.
BlogHer Contributing Editor Mir also blogs about issues parental and otherwise at Woulda Coulda Shoulda, and about the joys of mindful retail therapy at Want Not.
