Embrace the Clutter
by Anne Hines, Today's Parent Magazine
January 2008
When you have kids in the house, some mess is mandatory and, as Anne Hines argues, that's a good thing
This article is about...wait, I wrote it down…no. Really, it was right...this is just so frustrating, you know? You make a note about something and it gets lost under all the papers and junk on your...wait, here it is. This article is about: the joys of clutter.
I have to admit up front, I haven’t always believed in the upside of untidiness. Years ago, I imagined that true happiness was a perfectly colour-coded filing system. I was convinced that the answer to inner peace lay in learning to fold a fitted sheet properly. And that by taking the time to crotchet a versatile hanging utensil holder, I could find both serenity and my scissors.
Then I had children. Suddenly, life fell into time periods: BC (before children) and AD (absolute disorder).
Someone wise once said, “Trying to clean your house while your children are still growing is like trying to shovel the walk while it’s still snowing.”
I tried to teach my children the basic principles of neatness, such as Cleanliness is next to godliness (for them, it’s next to impossible) and For everything, there is a place, and it’s not stuffed under the bed. Finally I realized that from a life wish list that includes children, sanity and order, you get to pick only two.
For anyone struggling to find delight in disarray, it’s important to understand that this does not mean lowering your standards. It means not having any. It also helps to realize that the clutter of parenthood isn’t only what’s currently piled up on your living room carpet. Clutter can be sorted into three separate categories. Read on for these (in no particular order, of course).
Untidy space or If God meant us to be tidy, he wouldn’t have given us Lego.
It is a well-known fact that all kids need 600,000 pounds of stuff — and some of it’s going to end up on the floor. When I accept this inevitability, I step over toys and see creativity in action. I wade through stuffed animals and remember that these are friends to hug when the world makes you sad. And I stack towers of books and see a hundred adventures my children and I have shared together.
So when I can’t find an hour to sort out my workspace or unclutter the kitchen, I thank goodness I have a life that demands my time for things that will last a little longer than an empty inbox or a pristine countertop.
Mental clutter or I just can’t seem to remember anything any...uh...what were we talking about?
A significant flaw of evolution is that parents still have only one head. The brain you once used to remember things, such as “Maybe phone Judy and see if she wants to have lunch” is the same one you now use to remember to drop off the library books, sign up for Li’l Tykes Swim and Shiver, and take the form to the doctor’s appointment (not that form but the other one that you forgot to take the last time).
One way to embrace mental clutter is to simply forget about it — which, given the fact that you can’t remember anything anyway, should not be a problem. Or you can make a subtle shift in the kinds of questions you ask yourself to indicate what’s really important now. For instance, instead of “Are my clothes clean, up to date and appropriate for this occasion?” ask yourself “Am I wearing shoes?” Note: Matching socks are for those overachiever mothers in toilet-training commercials.
Emotional clutter or I love my kids — it’s being a parent that makes me crazy.
What mental clutter is to the brain, emotional clutter is to the heart. Emotional clutter is believing firmly and entirely that your task as a parent is to prepare your children for the world, while still trying to protect them from it. There is only one way to overcome this: Parent other people’s children. When it comes to the heart tugs and confusion of raising your own, all you can do is remember that while love can’t be bought, it still comes with a price tag.
I know the day is coming, not so far off, when the emotional demands of parenting will slow down, when my mental clutter will subside as my children make decisions for themselves, and when I can turn my attention to a perfectly tidy desk, immaculate living space or the pleasure of putting something down and knowing it will be there when I get back.
But not yet. For the moment, my life is still entirely, hopelessly, joyously cluttered. And oh, I am lucky.
by Anne Hines, Today's Parent Magazine
January 2008
When you have kids in the house, some mess is mandatory and, as Anne Hines argues, that's a good thing
This article is about...wait, I wrote it down…no. Really, it was right...this is just so frustrating, you know? You make a note about something and it gets lost under all the papers and junk on your...wait, here it is. This article is about: the joys of clutter.
I have to admit up front, I haven’t always believed in the upside of untidiness. Years ago, I imagined that true happiness was a perfectly colour-coded filing system. I was convinced that the answer to inner peace lay in learning to fold a fitted sheet properly. And that by taking the time to crotchet a versatile hanging utensil holder, I could find both serenity and my scissors.
Then I had children. Suddenly, life fell into time periods: BC (before children) and AD (absolute disorder).
Someone wise once said, “Trying to clean your house while your children are still growing is like trying to shovel the walk while it’s still snowing.”
I tried to teach my children the basic principles of neatness, such as Cleanliness is next to godliness (for them, it’s next to impossible) and For everything, there is a place, and it’s not stuffed under the bed. Finally I realized that from a life wish list that includes children, sanity and order, you get to pick only two.
For anyone struggling to find delight in disarray, it’s important to understand that this does not mean lowering your standards. It means not having any. It also helps to realize that the clutter of parenthood isn’t only what’s currently piled up on your living room carpet. Clutter can be sorted into three separate categories. Read on for these (in no particular order, of course).
Untidy space or If God meant us to be tidy, he wouldn’t have given us Lego.
It is a well-known fact that all kids need 600,000 pounds of stuff — and some of it’s going to end up on the floor. When I accept this inevitability, I step over toys and see creativity in action. I wade through stuffed animals and remember that these are friends to hug when the world makes you sad. And I stack towers of books and see a hundred adventures my children and I have shared together.
So when I can’t find an hour to sort out my workspace or unclutter the kitchen, I thank goodness I have a life that demands my time for things that will last a little longer than an empty inbox or a pristine countertop.
Mental clutter or I just can’t seem to remember anything any...uh...what were we talking about?
A significant flaw of evolution is that parents still have only one head. The brain you once used to remember things, such as “Maybe phone Judy and see if she wants to have lunch” is the same one you now use to remember to drop off the library books, sign up for Li’l Tykes Swim and Shiver, and take the form to the doctor’s appointment (not that form but the other one that you forgot to take the last time).
One way to embrace mental clutter is to simply forget about it — which, given the fact that you can’t remember anything anyway, should not be a problem. Or you can make a subtle shift in the kinds of questions you ask yourself to indicate what’s really important now. For instance, instead of “Are my clothes clean, up to date and appropriate for this occasion?” ask yourself “Am I wearing shoes?” Note: Matching socks are for those overachiever mothers in toilet-training commercials.
Emotional clutter or I love my kids — it’s being a parent that makes me crazy.
What mental clutter is to the brain, emotional clutter is to the heart. Emotional clutter is believing firmly and entirely that your task as a parent is to prepare your children for the world, while still trying to protect them from it. There is only one way to overcome this: Parent other people’s children. When it comes to the heart tugs and confusion of raising your own, all you can do is remember that while love can’t be bought, it still comes with a price tag.
I know the day is coming, not so far off, when the emotional demands of parenting will slow down, when my mental clutter will subside as my children make decisions for themselves, and when I can turn my attention to a perfectly tidy desk, immaculate living space or the pleasure of putting something down and knowing it will be there when I get back.
But not yet. For the moment, my life is still entirely, hopelessly, joyously cluttered. And oh, I am lucky.
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