The Big Declutter: Day Two

This is the quilt I made for Our Fine Lower School's Director. This was our ninth and last year at the Lower School, and we both got a little bit weepy when I gave her the quilt.


So, no decluttering pix today, but I did want to report on my most recent progress. Yesterday I took a big bunch of clothes, blankets and old briefcases/computer bags to the Durham Rescue Mission store. Didn't make it to the library to donate books, because Will was being a pill (which I will discuss in a moment).

This morning I posted two offers to my Freecycle group--the yarn and the fabric scraps. I think I'm just going to do two things at a time, so it won't get confusing arranging pick-ups.

So my other goal for today is to organize our school supplies. Here's what happens every year: the boys get a list of school supplies they just have to have. Some of these supplies actually get used, others sit untouched in their desks/lockers/backpacks for nine months. At the end of the school year, they're brought home and dumped into closets and dark corners. Then, the following August, we get the new lists and go out and buy all new stuff because we can't find the stuff that got dumped in the dark corners.

But no more! I've been seeking out all our school supplies, including notebooks with only a few pages written on, perfectly good if slightly used pencils, many, many boxes of unused markers, and at least five pencil boxes, and thrown them into a box in my study. Today I'm going to organize the supplies and make a place for them in my study closet, which from now on will be considered our school supply store. I am sure to save millions of dollars in school supplies in the coming years.

This is the quilt I made for the administrative assistant at
 Our Fine Lower School.

Okay, so Will. Will, like me, gets funky in the summer. Really, I think he gets depressed. He's out of his routine, he doesn't get as much exercise as he's used to, and he doesn't always see his friends on a regular basis, because of vacations, camps, etc.

I think part of Will's problem is that he's an introvert. From my own experience as an introvert,  I know that getting the right balance between alone time and social time is difficult. You're a little bit resistant to making plans because you can't predict when you're going to feel like socializing and when you're going to feel like hanging out reading or doing a project on your own. But when you don't make plans, you often find yourself sitting at home feeling lonely and at loose ends.

This has been going on for years, and I keep waiting for Will to grow out of it. But last night I had a Big, Huge Revelation: he's not going to (me, either). And Big, Huge Revelation No. 2: This child needs more scheduled activities in his life.

Oh, I just hate that! It means more driving and more places to be. And Will hates it, too. He hates the idea of going to camp, and usually I don't make him. But last night I realized I have to make him. Our Fine School has half-day camps, and I'm going to have to bite the bullet, take a hit for the team, insert your own violent metaphor here, and sign him up. He's going to fuss and fight, but I'll sign him up for sports camps so he can run around and get tired, and then in the afternoon we'll go to the pool. My plan is to sign him up for a camp every other week. It's going to cost me a bundle.

Here's the thing: there's a lot of depression on my side of the family, and I worry that Will has inherited the gene. It's not bipolar, and it's not severe. Both my brothers and I have it, and none of us is medicated (not even self-medicated, though there's a lot of that in my family, too). The older I get, the fewer episodes I have, and this winter I was saved by my S.A.D. lamp.

When you have the kind of depression my family has--mild to moderate episodic depression--the best things to do are exercise, eat lots of protein, and spend time with friends. So I'm off to make Will a strawberry smoothie and schedule the rest of his summer.

More tomorrow!

P.S. The NIA class I took yesterday was great! Pom Pom, you'll be glad to hear that people didn't seem overly-territorial about their spots. Lots of dancing, a little bit of martial arts moves. I kept up as best I could, had loads of fun, and was wiped out for the rest of the day!

And so the summer begins ... And so does the decluttering!

My lovely, organized study closet

It's a rainy Monday morning. We've had a lot of rain lately, and I wish it would stop. The children are starting to grow mushrooms behind their ears.

So on Saturday I got to work on my study closet. Now I'm kicking myself for not taking a "before" picture, because it looks so dramatically different now. My pledge to you: I will take "before" pictures on the rest of my decluttering projects, even if means exposing the shame of my bedroom closet, a virtual den of dust bunnies.

Here is my study, after the purging of said closet:

Click on it if you want to see the true extent of the mess. Sigh.

 

My plan for this week is to post every day--yes, every day!--to report on my decluttering progress. This of course is to spur me on, to keep me focused, to keep my eye on the prize--and to make you feel better about the relatively uncluttered nature of your own home (or, conversely, to inspire you if you need decluttering inspiration).

Right now, I've got three piles going: 1) Stuff for Freecycle; 2) Stuff for recycle; and 3) stuff for the Durham Rescue Mission. My Freecycle piles are actually boxes, and the boxes I've got going are 1) The Big Box of Yarn I'll Never Use Again (some of it very nice yarn indeed, but it's just taking up space); 2) The Big Box of Fabric Scraps that I Just Don't Have the Energy to Sort and Sewing Notions I Never Use; and 3) The Big Box of Activity Books and Coloring Books that Only Got Used a Little Bit. What I love about Freecycle is you can give away stuff that's been used a little bit.

Next up: Comforters and Linens that We No Longer Use or Care For, and Clothes that Are Nice But Really Don't Fit.

Oh, and there's the box of ten year's worth of Martha Stewart Living November and December issues. I always think I'm going to sit down and leaf through them for ideas, but I never do.

***

In a little bit I'm going over to the gym to try a NIA class. I really have no idea what NIA is, but here's how it's described:

Neuro-muscular Integrative Action is a holistic, sensory-based movement practice that combines the spirited energy of Jazz, modern dance and improvisational movement with the power and precision of the martial arts, along with the flexibility, balance and sensory awareness of Yoga, Feldenkrais and Alexander Technique. All levels of fitness welcome.

I'm a little concerned about the improvisational movement part, but the rest sounds sort of fun.  I've decided I'm going to do more classes as the gym this summer, for a change of pace. Also, I sometimes get in a summer funk, and exercise is a good way to combat it.

***

Okay, more tomorrow. I hope I'll be able to report to you that I took clothes and comforters over to the Durham Rescue Mission and donation books to the library. If not, then I'm sure I'll have a fabulous story of why I failed in the attempt.

Almost Done!

 Me and Will listening to the Durham Bulls on the radio, out on 

the screened porch Wednesday night.

 First of all, if you haven't read this, and you have ever in any way been involved with schooling children, I insist you check it out immediately: http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2013/05/30/worst-end-of-school-year-mom-ever. Not only so true, but one of the most hilarious things I've read in quite some time.

Today is Will's last full day of school. Next week, they will torture us by stretching things out one half-day at a time. Okay, it's only Monday and Tuesday, and then fourth grade graduation is Wednesday. But still, with just a tiny bit of effort, we could have this whole thing wrapped up by Monday night.

So given that today is Will's last full day, and Jack's last full day was yesterday (he started exams today), do you know what significant milestone we just passed? I AM DONE PACKING LUNCHES UNTIL AUGUST 20TH! (yes, I believe that merits all caps.) Maybe if I had children who ate a wide variety of nutritionally sound and interesting food, packing lunches would be a pleasure. But Will eats hardly any typical lunch foods (no peanut butter, no sandwiches of any kind), and Jack sticks to turkey and roast beef sandwiches. No hummus, no yogurt (though both boys eat yogurt at home), no foods that have potential to contaminate other foods with their scent. That leaves us with sandwiches, muffins, carrot sticks, grapes and cookies. Plus the symbolic string cheese I put in Will's lunch every day, which he never eats (though he eats it at home).

So every evening as I pack their bags, I feel like a lunchtime failure. I feel quite positive that Jack and Will's teachers and peers have been judging me harshly. To be free of these feelings for the next eleven weeks? That, my friend, is freedom indeed.

Other things ... I'm on a major decluttering kick. This will be the Summer of the Big Declutter. (Stop laughing! Did you hear me say it was the Summer I Will Finally Get My Attic Under Control? No, you did not.) I've already started, and here's my confession: I'm not recycling half as much as I should. Usually I'm a very committed recycler, but girls, sometimes to make any headway, you've just got to throw stuff away. You know what I'm saying? You chuck it and you don't look back.

So, anyway, do you have any good decluttering tips for me? The Man's idea of a decluttering tip is that I should leave the house for a day while he takes a pile of giant trash bags and fills them with everything he deems unnecessary to our daily lives. When I came home, the house would be completely bare but for the dog, the children, and a jar of peanut butter.

Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 49. Because I always round my age up, that means I'm 50. But you know what? I don't look a day over 46.

Anyway, it was a lovely birthday. The Man took me out to lunch, and then he picked up the boys from school, and I lazed about on the porch, drinking sparkling mineral water and reading a Jackie Robinson biography. Will had a baseball game, and had two hits, and pitched two innings for a total 0.0 earned run average (for those of you not familiar with the ins and outs of baseball, that's a might good ERA indeed).

The Man and I put our chairs in the shade, and I drank some more sparkling mineral water (sparkling mineral water is to me the very definition of the word "treat"), and we chatted and watched our guys win 24-3, and cheered for both teams. We always cheer for both teams, but I suppose there will come a day when the players are bigger and meaner, and then we'll only cheer for our team. That will be a sad day indeed.

Then we came home and ate pulled pork barbecue and chocolate cake and I opened my very nice presents.

Okay, that's all I've got for now. Send in those decluttering tips, would you? I need all the help I can get!

Little Bits and Pieces

Strawberry fields forever ...

1. I went strawberry picking last week. The strawberries this year are small and oddly-shaped because of all the rain we've had this spring. They still taste mighty fine, and I'm going back soon to get some more. Time to make jam!

2. Thanks to my friend, Sarah, I have discovered the most amazing service in the world. For $4.95, I can order my groceries online, and then pick them up at the store. Sarah has been doing this for years, and I've always assumed it cost an arm and a leg. Of course, when you have three children, two of them five and under, an arm and a leg is a bargain, so I understood why Sarah was willing to sacrifice so many of her limbs.

But it turns out she's been paying a pittance! In fact, this service pays for itself, since you can't make impulse purchases when you shop online. My grocery bill for the week was about twenty dollars less than it usually is. Bargain!

3. Another great deal: Buying reading glasses on line. Last week, I bought a package of five reading glasses on Amazon.com, including a pair of reading sunglasses. Total cost: $29.95. They're cute and funky, and now I have reading glasses spread out all over my house. I feel rich! (If you're interested, go here.)

4. The tyranny of May continues ... This week we have the 4th grade class play, a BIG deal, Jack's final band concert, baseball practice, and on my personal docket are two lunches with friends and my monthly book group meeting (we read Open by Andre Agassi, and I was surprised by how good it was). Two weeks from now, fourth and eighth grade graduation, fourth and eighth grade pool parties, and eighth grade graduation party.

I know I'll miss my children when they're grown and gone, but I will not miss school days in May. I don't remember it being this busy when I was a kid, do you? I remember field day ... and that's it. I'll have to ask my mom what she remembers.

5. Last week my friends Amy and Danielle came over for lunch. We ate this cake that I made with the strawberries I picked:

It tasted good, but was rather ridiculous. The recipe called for cutting two cake layers into four layers, but by the time I tried to put the fourth layer on ... well, just forget about it.

Anyway, Amy, Danielle and I have been friends now for fourteen years. We met when we were pregnant with our first babies. I am probably more myself with them than anyone else I know, other than the Man. I have no idea how they've put up with me for this long.

6. Got my first Durham Bulls' post up on the Bull City Summer Blog. If you want to read it, go here. My next piece is going to be on an elderly woman who goes to every single home game. That's how I'm going to be when I'm old--drinking a beer at the ballpark while I listen to the game on my transistor radio.

7. Is that enough stuff? Are you ready for summer yet?

I Am Having a Good Time

 The fridge at the Pomegranate Kitchen

As most of you who read this blog know, I'm a children's book author. I'm very fortunate and blessed to make my living doing this, and I love it. But I love other kinds of writing, too, and for a long time have wanted to write more about where I live and some of the things that interest me.

Tomorrow, I'm going over to the Durham Bulls baseball park to talk to the groundskeeper about foxes. Apparently, for awhile this spring two foxes made their home there. And as it just so happens, my last book had a mystical fox running through it, and as it just so happens, there's a big documentary project taking place this summer called Bull City Summer, in which ever single Bulls game is going to be documented and blogged about, and as it just so happens, a friend of mine is involved in this project, and when she heard about the foxes, she emailed me and said, "You have to do a blog post about the foxes living in the Durham Bulls park!"

So I emailed the park's groundskeeper, who emailed me back and said, Come on over!

I could not be more thrilled.

First of all, I'm a baseball fan, and I'm a Durham Bulls fan in particular, and the idea that two foxes were making their home in this humongous, AAA park tickles me to no end. That I get to write about it tickles me further. That my friend who's involved with the documentary project just told me she's going to try to get me a press pass so I can go to whatever games I want and write about them? Good grief! I can't even tell you how happy that makes me.

Another happiness: I have been contributing some posts to a blog that covers North Carolina foodways. Tomorrow, they're publishing my post about a nearby Persian restaurant that's not really a restaurant--it's called Pomegranate Kitchen, and it is, in fact, just a kitchen. You buy your food, and then you take it somewhere else to eat. Have you ever eaten Persian food? It is to die for. If you told me I'd fall in love with a dish called pomegranate stew, I would have told you I don't think so. But it's amazing! And the woman who owns this place and is the cook is fabulous. I walked in on Tuesday afternoon and said, "Can I interview you for this piece I'm writing?" and she told me all this interesting stuff about Iran, where she's from, and how people cook there.

The drink selection at Pomegranate Kitchen

This made me very happy, too. And tomorrow, the Man and I and our friend, Rick, who leads my Bible study and also speaks fluent Spanish (he owns a landscaping business and all his employees are
from Mexico--and documented, Rick would want me to tell you; he insists upon this, and every January he or his partner travel to Mexico with their workers to help them get their papers renewed), and another friend of ours named Cricket are going to a Mexican grocery/taqueria called La Superior for lunch so I can write about it (and the Man can take pictures to accompany my story--the Man is also coming with me to take pix at the Bulls stadium--so convenient to have a husband who's also an amazing photographer!). And this makes me happy, too. It makes me happy to live in this small city, where all sorts of interesting things are going on.

But I have to admit, all this excitement is also a little exhausting. I'm happy for it, but I'm also happy that things at home are quiet, and that I have Bible study every week to keep me grounded, and that I have my friends who are steady and helpful and kind.

So I'm having a good time, and now, just writing about it, I'm ready to go to bed. I think the entire month of May is going to be like that. I'll keep you updated.

Jack turns fourteen on Saturday. He seems to be of the opinion that he's turning twenty-one, but he's been of that opinion for a couple of years now. I'm sure it outrages him that we won't let him drive himself to school.

Having a (nearly) fourteen-year-old child has been interesting. I've had a couple of occasions recently where I've really had to make myself step back, mom-wise. For instance, the day before the eighth grade left for their three-day trip. One of the items on Jack's packing list was a rain jacket. Where was Jack's rain jacket? At school, of course.

The Man left Jack a note that morning that read, "Don't forget your jacket!" When I dropped Jack off at school, I called after him, "Don't forget your jacket!" And yes, I emailed him that afternoon to not forget his jacket.

In spite of this, what were the odds that he'd forget his jacket? Really, really good. So I decided to email his advisor, Mr. S. I began by writing, "Dear Mr. S., I hope I don't seem like one of those helicopter parents to you, but ..." and then I stopped. I deleted the email.

Jack is too old to have his mom email his advisor about a jacket.

The other recent situation: Jack has been having a group of friends over on Sunday afternoons to play Dungeons and Dragons for a couple of hours. Every week the guys all say they'll be there, and sometimes they are, but other times only one or two of them show up, and one week no one showed up. The Mom in me wants to take over, to email the boys' parents on Thursday nights, "Please confirm that your child will be here on Sunday. They claim they're coming, but you may have entirely different plans for them, and it would be good to know."

But I can't. It's not my job to run that part of Jack's life anymore. He can figure out a better way to confirm who's coming on Sundays, or he can live with the suspense. Me, I don't have a pony in the race.

The hardest thing for me right now is backing off on hygiene patrol. Every once in awhile I get pushy about his skin, but even that is starting to feel like trespassing into territory that isn't much of my business anymore. I feel okay about reminding him to shower (and can't wait for the day when he doesn't need reminding) and have no scruples about forcing him to get his hair cut. But he knows when his skin is broken out, and he knows what to do about it. There's something undignified about me standing outside of the bathroom door while he's brushing his teeth and calling, "Don't forget to use your skin stuff!"

I have no doubt that one day soon, maybe this week, maybe next, you'll find me outside the bathroom door calling, "Don't forget your skin stuff!" I haven't quite gotten the knack of being a mother to a fourteen-year-old boy. Confession: I pretty much packed Jack's bag the night before the 8th grade trip. I didn't want him to forget anything, and I didn't want his clothes getting all wrinkled because he'd scrunched them in instead of folding them first.

But even while I was doing it, I knew I should be letting him pack. He was just standing around watching me,  not eager to help, but not entirely comfortable with the fact that I'd more or less taken over his life. Again.

 Well, I'll know better next time. Seem like we're all on a learning curve around here.

P.S. Jack remembered his jacket. My baby's growing up!

Catching Up

So, it's been a while, my dears, and I can't explain exactly why. I feel a big chunk of my life has been given over to driving boys hither and yon. But there are other things as well. Last week, I drove to Kentucky to meet my mom so we could drive to Cincinnati for the Cincinnati International Quilt Festival. My mom is a good traveling companion and quilting buddy. We took two classes and wished we had time to take more.

                                                 Me and my mom at the festival.

Two weeks ago, I went to Uncle Eli's Quilting Party in Eli Whitney, NC. It's a gathering of quilters and other local folks that happens the first Thursday of every April, and has been happening now for eighty-two years.

I brought my audio recorder and interviewed a bunch of people. One of the women I interviewed was 84 and said she'd been coming to the quilting party all of her life. She said her mother had made quilts, but she never did. She had five children and worked in a mill and there just wasn't time.

The whole morning I felt like I was surrounded by the Man's aunts. Good country people who pretty much have stayed put, worked hard, raised their children, and found creative outlets when and where they could. Ten years from now, a lot of the folks I talked to will be gone and so will their way of life. I hope that Uncle Eli's party will continue, but I wonder.

When I was at my parents' house in Kentucky, my dad asked me to take home a bunch of my boxes that had been stored in the basement. His latest project is getting all the junk out of their house so we children won't have to deal with it when he and my mother die. This sounds a touch morbid, but given that my father--my very healthy father--has been preparing for his imminent death for twenty years now, I'm used to it.

So anyway, I brought home the boxes, which are most filled with books I'll end up donating to the library. But there are several boxes of papers and photographs from college and grad school, some of which I've gone through. A lot of it is pretty cringe-worthy stuff--bad poetry and even worse academic papers, lots of pictures of me in one silly incarnation or another--and some of it hints at the adult I would become (including a journal I took with me on a trip to Berlin with friends when I was twenty-four, in which I confessed how embarrassed it made me to mostly just want to be home--twenty-five years later, I feel exactly the same way).

My favorite finds (and I would not have predicted this when I was twenty-four!) were pictures of my family back in the day--my little brother caught in the act of being goofy in his laid-back, cool way, my big brother trying to look suave, my mother looking young and beautiful at age forty-eight, the age I am now. And my dog! How fine it was to see my old dog.

Those are the pictures I'll keep. The one with the guy throwing back a beer at a frat party, a guy I don't even recognize and who's not even cute? That one goes.