by Jen | Apr 20, 2015 | Organizing
Every Tuesday my kid’s elementary school sends the equivalent of one phone book’s worth of paper home with my kids. Times two. No, seriously. Actually they are the collection agency for “Lots of Paper Without Homes”, then they divide the paper by the students and send those papers home. Really. Ok, all joking aside, the school is actually a recycling plant for paper and they recycle millions of pounds a week using secret people and the kid’s backpacks.
25 sheets = 1 quire
500 sheets = 1 ream
1,000 sheets = 1 bundle
5,000 sheets = 1 bale
We should just familiar ourselves with these measurements so we can communicate more efficiently with one another. “I had about one bale in little Johnny’s backpack today.” “Oh, you did? We have been only getting 3 bundles lately.” “REALLY?! I heard that that other school is only sending home 2 quires!” “NO!” “YES!” “Stop it!” “I know, right?!”
My kids are in on it too. They take a piece of paper and scribble a line on it and tell me I need to keep it forever.
And then there is their finished school work. It feels wrong to throw it away. What if they need to reference it? What if the teacher asks me to recall an old assignment (which has happened.) And what if, horror, upon horror, my child feels his hard work is not valuable because he sees it in the garbage?
All parents know that Spring is to parents what Mother’s Day and Christmas are to postal workers…Paper Purgatory.
I have almost won it, or at least am putting on a good show. I will show you here.
If you are raging any kind of war on clutter it is important to understand two things.
One. That’s it. You can only have ONE step involved in dealing with it. If it has one step but it involves walking into another room then that becomes two steps, and you probably won’t do it. It has to take less than 3 seconds to manage it. Unless you are gifted in the art of living with minimal things and have lots of time and like complicated systems and have live in help…then this does not apply to you.
Two. It has to be in a container. Look I show you. (I’m drinking coffee. For those that read regularly you know that when I drink coffee I speak and sometimes write with a Colombian accent.)
Before
After
This was real time. I just did that. And when I was putting all the papers back, yes, I was stymied. I don’t know if I want to order a second set of school pictures, and I missed a deadline on something–is it too late? Does my son still plan on making me, and make us, make play dough from scratch using peanut butter? I better hold on to that piece of paper a bit longer. Am I signing them up for that summer camp or not? I already put all the sports schedules on the calendar but what if I need to double-check one? I better keep the hard copy the coach gave me. And is that book points reward coupon still redeemable? The point is they are all in one place looking purposeful until I have the presence of mind to act, or not.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back. And simplify.
One step to deal with it– and it must be contained. Purposeful clutter.
We have one hanging bin where my kids do homework where the homework in action is kept. Spelling words, unfinished homework, upcoming test prep. NOTHING else can go in it.
We have the stand up file pictured previously where the parent in action is kept.
Parent In Action
And then we have this:
The holding basket. EVERYTHING they finish goes in this basket which is hidden–finished art work (4 out of 10 times it is unfinished and I did not know this and they are looking for it to finish and I can smartly reply it is here instead of the garbage/lost/floating in middle distance on the kitchen counter) and finished homework. It’s the dead zone. Then when I feeling energetic I go through the basket and pull out what I want to keep as a memento, or what I want to give to Grandma. I “recycle” the rest except for any schoolwork that looks really important? I throw that back in the basket–if we haven’t needed it by the end of the school year then it will be “recycled” too. (I still keep random school work for their Memory Boxes–which is just a box in their closets separated inside by age/school year in extra large ziplock bags.)
There use to be a binder. But it didn’t take. There were folders inside for School, Sports, Church, etc… All the reference items were kept in it–school ID numbers, schedules, important dates. It involved 4 Steps to contain and I couldn’t deal with it. One to open the closet, two to get the binder, three to open the binder, four to put the paper in appropriate folder. Who has time for that? Now all that stuff goes into the stand up file where all the parent in action papers are. It’s a one step action.
Seriously, I am committed to abolishing paper clutter but I recognize my limitations. Time. And the paper is stronger and faster than I am. Sometimes there is a stray piece that just doesn’t fall into any one category and so I leave it on the counter in defiance of all that is important to me in the fight against this war, until my husband comes along and throws it away. God Bless Him.
If you liked this post: Displaying Kid’s Artwork, Organizing and Fear, The War on Clutter
by Jen | Jan 17, 2015 | Fun Style
I’m not outdoorsy. I like to be outdoors. Then I like to come inside and take a shower. Or just look out the window. My husband likes to camp. He likes the woods. I have a problem with the woods. In my opinion, it is where people fleeing from prison go. I am from Detroit. You don’t camp if you are from Detroit. Yes, I generalize but whatever. If I want to get away and relax I don’t want to cook or clean. Cooking and cleaning do not equal relaxing. Listening for a twig snapping because you are about to be attacked by either the prison people or bears equals–no relax. Then there is this whole mesh/nylon issue (the stuff made out of tents or those pop out things on campers.) Yeah, that will keep us safe. The Dingo Ate My Baby (aka that movie with Meryl Streep in the Outback and the dingo), Deliverance, True Detectives, Dateline— all full of factual information to back up my opinions.
So my husband thinks a camper with no meshy sides and a padlock will possibly persuade me to change my mind. He totally is forgetting 1) cooking and cleaning 2) IT’S A CAMPER. Several years ago he took me to a camper show–lots of etched glass with wolves. Many years have passed since subject was allowed to be brought up again. Last night he took me to another camper show and I am happy to announce there wasn’t a glass to be found etched with a single wolf. Campers have come a long way since the last time we looked. There are all sorts of bells and whistles for families equal to a loaded mini van. My “favorite”, and I use the word loosely, had a rear area with a door for kids–bunk beds, couch, DVD and gaming hook ups. The best part was the additional entrance through the bathroom–no muddy people traipsing through and a place to hose off before entering. Even as I type this those items sound as exciting as getting dish towels for your birthday.
Then I spied the Airstreams. They are as practical and affordable as buying a Mercedes 2 door convertible with white silk interior as a family car. But, oh geez, this I could do. And there isn’t a meshy/nylon side to be seen.
According to the brochure here’s what my life could like with one of these babies:
I googled Airstream when I came home, lots of pictures under Glamping “Glamourous Camping”–now you are talking my language. And the aluminum exterior gives the added illusion of steel–which probably deters prison people and bears.
Found on navigateontrust.com
Buzzfeed.com– 27 Dreamy Campers
Found on Flickr
Just to show I am open-minded. I am willing to entertain one of these as well.
Design-Caster
Jen
If you liked this post:
Camping, and Vintage Cars. They are the Chrome Tiara for your Driveway
by Jen | Jan 10, 2015 | Life Reflections
We aren’t like most military families. They move more than we do. And most have had at least one overseas tour, if not more. On paper I am jealous of them. But the reality is something different. Logistical hell. New schools, houses that need to be sold, niches that need to be found, packing, unpacking, saying good-bye…and that doesn’t even begin to address moving to another country (cars with the steering wheel on the wrong side, pets that need to go into 6 month quarantine, and the new washing machine you just bought that the military won’t ship). But still, how boring to let all that stop you? Trying new places, lands, and cultures changes people. It broadens perspective and teaches new ways to measure quality of life. On the other hand packing and unpacking and dealing with all the red tape can and may kill you…
So on a third hand, I really want to live in France for a year. I really want to try New England. I wish I could have lived on the West Coast longer. And everyone loves their experiences living in Guam (who knew?) And on yet another hand, I may not make it if I have to move my household goods again (did I mention I am living in a rental house?)
I’m glad I’ve moved as much as I have. Every move has been a blessing, every single one–albeit sometimes disguised. Which brings me to now–approaching our final military chapter. Do we stay where we are and bloom where we are planted? Or is the grass greener somewhere else? In my head I have this vision of a small West Coast town where you ride your bike or walk to everywhere, the vistas are breathtaking, the picket fences extra white, and my charming seaside cottage is below BAH (that’s really affordable in non-military terms). In my head I live where other people dream about–only it’s my reality. I wish I could move all the people with me that have made every place I have lived special. I’ve left bits of my heart across the country with these people.
Today I am enveloped in my rental house on a freezing cold day thinking of them and homes I have left and places I dream of going procrastinating on the blasted Christmas decorations that need to be packed up. It must be all the empty boxes waiting to be packed that have triggered this thinking. Who knows where we will be when these boxes get unpacked next?
Joy and Warmth to You,
Jen
If you liked this post then read on:
I’m Sorry You are Not a Military Family…So Put That In Your Pipe and Smoke It, Downsizing Part 3, and My Household Goods Weigh As Much As A UK Bus
by Jen | Nov 15, 2014 | Life Reflections
Once upon a time, before I discovered coffee, my husband, my sister-in-law, and my father-in-law would watch endless made for TV Christmas movies during the holidays while I intermittently napped and made fun of them. Upon my discovery of coffee several years later I was forced to watch the movies with them as caffeine made napping impossible.
Here’s the thing, you know how when you enter Disney World and you first get trampled by the hoards of people at opening and then you get run down by a stroller only to get crowd pushed against your will to Fantasyland to realize that even though it is 9:05 in the morning the line for the Pooh Pots is already 50 minutes long and everywhere you look is crazy ass commercialism for a mouse? And for a moment everything feels kind of phony? Well that is what those stupidly simple made-for-TV Christmas movies felt like to me.
But then something changed.
Do you remember Disney’s Wishes at the end of the day?
Jiminy Cricket says:
I’ll bet a lot of you folks don’t believe that, about a wish coming true, do ya? Well I didn’t either. Course, I’m just a cricket, but lemme tell you what made me change my mind. You see, the most fantastic, magical things can happen, and it all starts with a wish!
And tinker bell starts flying overhead and the fireworks are going off and kids are sitting on their dad’s shoulders with awe on their faces and parents are staring up at their kids with tears and smiles–so grateful that they had this magical day with their kids and everything in the world is ok, even for a moment. You feel like a kid again, not a cynic. You rode roller coasters and whirled in circles with Dumbo and ate pure sugar and hugged the “real” Mickey and Minnie Mouse and were transformed into other worlds and times and stories again and again.
That’s what happens to me now every year when the Hallmark channel starts their Christmas movie marathon. Yeah, some are really bad. It is easy to comment on ridiculous plots, bad hair, terrible acting (I still avoid Meet the Santa’s with Steve Guttenburg) and dare I say it? –the over-commericialization of Christmas.
But what happens if you remove the cynicism?
We still have a few ground rules. My sister-in-law’s choices cannot have death, children (usually bad actors), or Santa Claus in them. My rules are no death/sickness = must be lighthearted, and recently made. My husband’s rules consist of no Steve Guttenberg. And sometimes we even break the rules and are happily surprised. I like watching a movie where the whole drama revolves around who will win the cookie bake-off and will the girl get her guy and be a snow bride.
They are simple and sweet and make me feel like I do at the end of a day at Disney World (minus the sore feet) where laughter and a little magic collide.
I’ve been converted over. Josh, you are next… 😉
[JIMINY] from Wishes
Thanks folks, for making this little gathering of ours so extra magical.
From our family and friends to yours, goodnight, and may all your wishes come true.
So long!
Star light, star bright
First star I see tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
Have the wish, I wish tonight
Oh, a world of wishes.
A world where dreams come true.
So make a wish, see it through.
Dare to do what dreamers do.
by Jen | Oct 29, 2014 | Fun Style
I really get into my decorating–so much so that while hanging spooooooky Halloween gauzy stuff from my dining room ceiling I fell off my dining room table. I proceeded to ugly cry. I am so brave. I will spare you the complaints because my girlfriends, who were there, will scream if they have to hear about it or my pathetic injuries again. (Email me and I’ll so go into a million details; Oh, the horror of it all.) I will say that I am I typing with one hand. So I will be brief in words but long in pictures…It was a little party thrown for my husband’s bike club (and by bike I mean trails–not motorcycles.)
The Graveyard. Or, my living room…
1 Cockroach. Rubber.
If you liked this post check out The Addams Family vs. The Munsters…Where Would You Live?
