Ever since I was in college and had my first apartment, I have been a little bit obsessive about the placement of things.
I wasn’t always a big cleaner, never a fan of dusting (I don’t want you to get the wrong idea) but everything has always had its place and is expected to be there.
It’s been a point of humor for my friends and family, many of whom have moved a thing from to time, just to see if I found it (I always did), and it’s been a point of contention between my husband and I. Let’s just say he’s not as particular about the placement of things as I am.
I have no idea how many times I’ve heard, “Just wait until you have kids!”
Since Katie got here, however, I’ve been rather proud of myself for the steps away from my “OCD” tendencies, as Jason calls them.
How could I not improve, right? There are toys all over, jumperoos and excersuacers blocking walkways, diaper bags and a car seat by the door, and used bibs and spare binkies on nearly every surface.
True, everything gets picked up and put away throughout the day, and everything MUST be in its place before I go to bed, but to an extent, I can deal. At least I thought so.
Thanksgiving was at my house this year. There were several kids there between the ages of 4 and 8, and somehow, Katie’s room became the designated play area.
When everyone had left and I had tackled the cleanup of the kitchen, I made my way upstairs. I was a little afraid of what I would find, but imagine my surprise when the room appeared to be in order!
I breathed a sigh of relief, and then looked a little closer.
The room was not in order at all! At least not MY order.
The books were on the shelf, but they were not in order from tallest to smallest. The toys were in the bins, but were not separated into the proper categories. There were even hard, plastic toys in the stuffed animal basket (gasp!).
I spent at least 15 to 20 minutes recleaning the room. While I was in the middle of the cleaning, I came to a realization. I do not have a handle on this at all.
I still have a LONG way to go.