I was reading a great blog post today about getting more out of mothering. I needed it today because I feel like I am fighting my children’s love of The Blob. Things ooze here, and I’m not just talking about the mold in the basement. Even though our time with ‘ole Millie is drawing to a close, the lack of storage here is giving me the twitches worse than ever. In one part of this post, the author writes that we should, “Find out what drains and what fuels you.” That came on the heels of “Clean less.” And there’s the rub. I know what drains me. I’m staring at it right now–you’re probably staring at it right now. It’s stuff. Stuff everywhere. Why is there an open pack of lunch meat, a level, Febreeze, a random glass bird, rings that are supposed to be made into chain mail, a giant jack, a wooden pear, a history book, every Skylander ever created, reading books, game controllers, maps, more books, boxes, ibuprofen, and the Hubs’ game guide all on my coffee table? Did I mention the opened pack of lunch meat???
ENOUGH already! If I wasn’t so freaked out about scarring my children into becoming future Horders, I’d break out the big green trash bags and toss it all. Especially the lunch meat. The Febreeze can stay.
I need my family to embrace the joy that is the clean, uncluttered, horizontal surface. It is perfect in its simplicity and its beauty. The anti-Blob.