This week has been crazy. School started for my 1st graders but my little guy and I didn't have our regular schedules back up and going yet. We normally have family dinner at the table every night except for Wednesday when we have fellowship supper at church. This week, I cooked on Monday and that was it. No other day, due to orientations for #3's programs. While the break from cooking was nice, the busy pace wasn't. I also got a filling on Tuesday. Yuck. Brush and floss well, friends. Fillings aren't much fun. The emotion from this week was so high that while the dentist was working over my cavity, tears starting falling down my cheeks. Not from pain or even discomfort; I just had too long to sit there and think about how sad I was that my baby is turning 5 soon and my twins are in 1st grade. Where has the time gone?
I knew this week would take a toll on me. It did. Today was our MOPs Open House where new moms come and find out about MOPs while "old" moms greet them and catch up from the summer. When I was in leadership, I LOVED the Open House day. I made it my goal to meet every new mom that came in the door. Beautiful relationships began those days. Such sweet memories.
#3 is at a different place than his brothers have ever been. Whereas they always had each other, he doesn't have a buddy and he just doesn't like playing with kids younger than him. Yesterday he went with me to my new job and while I met with the other teachers, he played guns and swords with boys that were older and he really liked it. Anyway. I asked if he wanted to go to the MOPs Open House and he said no. OK.
So, what did I do instead of something I know I would have enjoyed? Clean my sink. My in-laws are coming in this afternoon and they both help with dishes and cooking while here, so I thought the least I could do was clean the sink for them. I'm glad I did.
We also had some errands, including the grocery store, so the house didn't get a thorough cleaning, but I'll do the high points later this afternoon.
#2 asked yesterday after school if I would eat lunch with him today. Before thinking, I said yes. After he went to bed, I realized my yes should have been no. While all 3 of my boys love it, eating lunch with them at school wears me out. It also makes me miss teaching.
The easy out today would have been to scurry around at the grocery to be back in time for the lunch at 11:05. Instead, this morning I calmly told #2 my reason for not going to lunch today: groceries and getting the house ready for company. He was fine with it. He knows I'll come another day.
This weekend I have to get my webpage on my school's website set up. I need it set up before next Tuesday and I don't want to worry over it. I'm afraid it's going to be a tar baby (meaning that it's a project that will become much more involved than you think it will be) and I'm timid to start it before Aaron is here to be my IT backup. Dude is great with trouble shooting whereas I just get upset.
The emotions I feel from starting a new job are surprising me and they're spilling over into my dread of setting up this webpage (and the fact I've never done anything like this before).
I love teaching and I feel confident that this will be a blessing to me and my family, but yesterday I was hit with the reality that I'm not going to be 100% mom anymore. Even though the rational part of me knows my boys need for me to step back and allow more independence, I'm still sad.
I've been praying for balance and now it's time to trust that God will give me the wisdom I need for this new step.
Friday, August 29, 2014
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Letting go of school lunch
I love the song "Letting Go." It needs to be my theme song. I cling so tightly to so many rules. Many of them are good for a season but I need to reevaluate from time to time.
I clung to healthy eating for my kids for a long time. Looking back, their lunches for MDO really were a thing of beauty. And even back then, I remember them complaining that the other kids had food that was more fun, namely powdered donuts, lunchables and hot dogs. I tried the hot dogs for them, but it just didn't work out. I'm oddly opposed to lunchables and I can't explain why. When we go on an outing, I grab them because they're way cheaper than going to McDonald's.
One of the most irritating things about my big boys starting school is that they became more aware of their power of choice. They didn't have me or another adult telling them to eat their lunches. They are relatively great eaters and I've been blessed by that, but somehow seeing daily the powdered donuts and hot dogs made them aware of how different my expectations were.
We had a system last year: after homework, I would ask each boy if they wanted school lunch according to the school menu. If not, they would choose a protein, carb and fruit. This worked pretty well until #2 decided he didn't like sandwiches at all. Grr.
It's tricky to buy enough food healthy food that they will actually eat. And if they won't eat it, it's just a waste. What's a mom to do?
Take a deep breath and let my high standards go. Accept that this is a chance for them to gain some independence and a chance for me to work with them. The end goal is to raise men who can make good choices when I'm not there. Wish it was easier, but such is life.
I clung to healthy eating for my kids for a long time. Looking back, their lunches for MDO really were a thing of beauty. And even back then, I remember them complaining that the other kids had food that was more fun, namely powdered donuts, lunchables and hot dogs. I tried the hot dogs for them, but it just didn't work out. I'm oddly opposed to lunchables and I can't explain why. When we go on an outing, I grab them because they're way cheaper than going to McDonald's.
One of the most irritating things about my big boys starting school is that they became more aware of their power of choice. They didn't have me or another adult telling them to eat their lunches. They are relatively great eaters and I've been blessed by that, but somehow seeing daily the powdered donuts and hot dogs made them aware of how different my expectations were.
We had a system last year: after homework, I would ask each boy if they wanted school lunch according to the school menu. If not, they would choose a protein, carb and fruit. This worked pretty well until #2 decided he didn't like sandwiches at all. Grr.
It's tricky to buy enough food healthy food that they will actually eat. And if they won't eat it, it's just a waste. What's a mom to do?
Take a deep breath and let my high standards go. Accept that this is a chance for them to gain some independence and a chance for me to work with them. The end goal is to raise men who can make good choices when I'm not there. Wish it was easier, but such is life.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
36 and thankful
Happy Birthday to me!
I'm 36 today and happy to be here. I love birthdays--they are a time to celebrate that we're created. I have to be careful on my birthday. I was adopted as a baby and if I think too long about the fact that this is the day a woman I've never met birthed me and gave me away I get a bit sad. Instead, I focus on the fact that this angel chose to sacrifice motherhood so I could go to a family ready to love a little redheaded girl.
We spoke of my adoption regularly as I was growing up and I'm so thankful my parents were brave enough to do so. It's part of my identity and I think that's why I've never had a huge issue with it.
They told me on the application form, one of the questions was if they would take a redhead right along with if they would take a black or Indian baby. Now I see why--people ask a lot if my parents have red hair. I don't look like them, or act like them.
Sometimes that's a lonely place to be. I find myself asking Aaron if a redheaded actress looks like me. His response is usually no and he'll tell me she's too tall or her face is too long or whatever. Part of me just wants to feel like I belong somewhere.
Yesterday I met with my new boss and the meeting went really well. All my questions were answered and I left with a renewed sense of purpose and excitement about teaching Spanish. I've never done parts of this job before and I'm excited to take it on. I'm confident I can bring something really fantastic to this job and I'm ready to do it.
For my birthday I really thought about gathering up a bunch of my girl friends to have dinner. When I turned 30 I invited 30 of my friends to join me for a paint the pottery afternoon. I was amazed at how many showed up. We had a fantastic time. 6 years later I'm at a different place. I love being with my friends but the energy and drama it takes to coordinate that many women wears me out. I'm going to head over to the big city tonight to do some shopping at some of my fave stores: Mardel, Container Store and Half Price Books. I had hoped to go with a good friend, but she had to be out of town today. So, I'll take Aaron tonight before we go dancing.
Dancing! I love going dancing and we've not done it much since kids came along. We went in Luckenbach for our 10th anniversary and were reminded how much we love it. Aaron is such a good dancer and I love dancing along with him. There's just nothing like it.
When I start down the adoption path it's easy to get a little sad. There's a woman out there that 36 years ago made the decision to say good-bye to me because she loved me. That's amazing. I would love to meet her and say thanks. I've heard that it's normal for adopted children to have a dream that their birth mother is this beautiful, magical person. I used to think that Reba McIntyre was my birth mom except that she's the wrong age and way too tall.
Why do I not pursue meeting her? My parents asked me not to. I remember my dad simply asking I not do it, way back when I was about middle school age. He told me it would hurt my mom. Of all they've give me, I can give them that.
Besides, the reality is that I'm full. I have loving parents and a kind brother. The family on Aaron's side is wonderful and I find acceptance there. I have fantastic friends and a church family that I adore. And I have Christ who loves and accepts me no matter what.
Part of me is afraid to find her. What if she's not like Reba? What if she's someone I don't want to have a relationship with? What if I don't want her to have a relationship with my sons? For now, it's just best to leave that door closed. I haven't researched it, but from what my parents told me long ago, for us to be reunited we would both have to contact someone--the adoption agency or I guess the courthouse that sealed the adoption for us to be reunited. Perhaps today she's thinking of me and has contacted them. I would love to just say thanks today for lovingly caring for me for 9 months as I grew inside her womb and for choosing a Christian family to raise me. They did a great job. She made a great choice.
But today I choose to find my identity in Christ not the fantasy of who I might be related to by birth. The best parts of me are the ones I've allowed Christ to create in me. Yes, I still find myself feeling on the outside sometimes and wishing I looked like someone, but it's OK. Aaron loves the way I look and I'm so much more than my outward appearance.
I'm 36 today and happy to be here. I love birthdays--they are a time to celebrate that we're created. I have to be careful on my birthday. I was adopted as a baby and if I think too long about the fact that this is the day a woman I've never met birthed me and gave me away I get a bit sad. Instead, I focus on the fact that this angel chose to sacrifice motherhood so I could go to a family ready to love a little redheaded girl.
We spoke of my adoption regularly as I was growing up and I'm so thankful my parents were brave enough to do so. It's part of my identity and I think that's why I've never had a huge issue with it.
They told me on the application form, one of the questions was if they would take a redhead right along with if they would take a black or Indian baby. Now I see why--people ask a lot if my parents have red hair. I don't look like them, or act like them.
Sometimes that's a lonely place to be. I find myself asking Aaron if a redheaded actress looks like me. His response is usually no and he'll tell me she's too tall or her face is too long or whatever. Part of me just wants to feel like I belong somewhere.
Yesterday I met with my new boss and the meeting went really well. All my questions were answered and I left with a renewed sense of purpose and excitement about teaching Spanish. I've never done parts of this job before and I'm excited to take it on. I'm confident I can bring something really fantastic to this job and I'm ready to do it.
For my birthday I really thought about gathering up a bunch of my girl friends to have dinner. When I turned 30 I invited 30 of my friends to join me for a paint the pottery afternoon. I was amazed at how many showed up. We had a fantastic time. 6 years later I'm at a different place. I love being with my friends but the energy and drama it takes to coordinate that many women wears me out. I'm going to head over to the big city tonight to do some shopping at some of my fave stores: Mardel, Container Store and Half Price Books. I had hoped to go with a good friend, but she had to be out of town today. So, I'll take Aaron tonight before we go dancing.
Dancing! I love going dancing and we've not done it much since kids came along. We went in Luckenbach for our 10th anniversary and were reminded how much we love it. Aaron is such a good dancer and I love dancing along with him. There's just nothing like it.
When I start down the adoption path it's easy to get a little sad. There's a woman out there that 36 years ago made the decision to say good-bye to me because she loved me. That's amazing. I would love to meet her and say thanks. I've heard that it's normal for adopted children to have a dream that their birth mother is this beautiful, magical person. I used to think that Reba McIntyre was my birth mom except that she's the wrong age and way too tall.
Why do I not pursue meeting her? My parents asked me not to. I remember my dad simply asking I not do it, way back when I was about middle school age. He told me it would hurt my mom. Of all they've give me, I can give them that.
Besides, the reality is that I'm full. I have loving parents and a kind brother. The family on Aaron's side is wonderful and I find acceptance there. I have fantastic friends and a church family that I adore. And I have Christ who loves and accepts me no matter what.
Part of me is afraid to find her. What if she's not like Reba? What if she's someone I don't want to have a relationship with? What if I don't want her to have a relationship with my sons? For now, it's just best to leave that door closed. I haven't researched it, but from what my parents told me long ago, for us to be reunited we would both have to contact someone--the adoption agency or I guess the courthouse that sealed the adoption for us to be reunited. Perhaps today she's thinking of me and has contacted them. I would love to just say thanks today for lovingly caring for me for 9 months as I grew inside her womb and for choosing a Christian family to raise me. They did a great job. She made a great choice.
But today I choose to find my identity in Christ not the fantasy of who I might be related to by birth. The best parts of me are the ones I've allowed Christ to create in me. Yes, I still find myself feeling on the outside sometimes and wishing I looked like someone, but it's OK. Aaron loves the way I look and I'm so much more than my outward appearance.
Friday, August 15, 2014
People pleasing
People pleasing is a funny thing. I was raised to make everyone around me happy. To me, that's just what considerate people do. Enter my husband, who wasn't raised that way. I remember I was nervous to meet his parents for the first time. Afterwards, I asked Aaron if he thought his mom liked me. "Of course she did." "How could you tell?" I asked. His response was priceless: "Because she knows you make me happy." Wow.
I'm reading a book by one of my favorite authors, Kathi Lipp. I enjoy her books very much and she bravely writes about many of the struggles I find myself facing. This book is entitled The Cure to the Perfect Life. It's about choosing not to let the bullies of perfectionism, people pleasing, performancism and procrastination rule my life.
Later today I'm going to meet up with my new boss to iron out details for my job. I'm nervous. I'm scared and I'm a little sad that this day is here. For a long time now I've been home with little kids. That chapter isn't closing, but the page is definitely turning. The irony is that the staying home with kids years haven't been the absolute joy of my heart. Yes, I've enjoyed it and I truly believe God called me to it, but I've known it wouldn't be forever. And I'm somehow surprised that moving into this next chapter isn't all rainbows and lollipops.
So, instead of dealing with these feelings head on, I stewed for a ridiculously long time about what to wear today. It's not an interview; I have the job, but yet I'm still nervous about her liking me based on the clothes I wear. Very silly.
This would be people pleasing.
Yesterday I went to a huge consignment sale and bought some clothes for my biggest boy and one board game. I had a limited amount to spend and I felt really good about how well I used the money I had to spend.
This morning, Aaron sees the one non-clothing item I bought (Pictionary-Man) and went off about how much he hates board games.
A few years ago I would have cowered under this tirade and apologized about buying it. Not today. I told him I didn't buy it for him and I got an excellent deal on it. The boys and I love board games and we'll enjoy it together.
And then a few minutes later, I apologized for being snappy with him.
Now I look back on that conversation and I realize I didn't need to apologize for having an opinion different than his. I didn't need to apologize for anything.
I have to remind myself that my worth isn't based on the opinion of others and that my husband has strong opinions. I thrive on affirming words, a currency that doesn't come naturally from him. I will say he's gotten much better at this and I've gotten better at asking for it, but we still have a ways to go. Even more than that, my value is in Jesus Christ, my creator, Savior and king.
As I head into my future, I need to bravely lean of God's promises to be with me and lean into his courage. And enjoy the heck out of Pictionary-Man when I get to play it.
I'm reading a book by one of my favorite authors, Kathi Lipp. I enjoy her books very much and she bravely writes about many of the struggles I find myself facing. This book is entitled The Cure to the Perfect Life. It's about choosing not to let the bullies of perfectionism, people pleasing, performancism and procrastination rule my life.
Later today I'm going to meet up with my new boss to iron out details for my job. I'm nervous. I'm scared and I'm a little sad that this day is here. For a long time now I've been home with little kids. That chapter isn't closing, but the page is definitely turning. The irony is that the staying home with kids years haven't been the absolute joy of my heart. Yes, I've enjoyed it and I truly believe God called me to it, but I've known it wouldn't be forever. And I'm somehow surprised that moving into this next chapter isn't all rainbows and lollipops.
So, instead of dealing with these feelings head on, I stewed for a ridiculously long time about what to wear today. It's not an interview; I have the job, but yet I'm still nervous about her liking me based on the clothes I wear. Very silly.
This would be people pleasing.
Yesterday I went to a huge consignment sale and bought some clothes for my biggest boy and one board game. I had a limited amount to spend and I felt really good about how well I used the money I had to spend.
This morning, Aaron sees the one non-clothing item I bought (Pictionary-Man) and went off about how much he hates board games.
A few years ago I would have cowered under this tirade and apologized about buying it. Not today. I told him I didn't buy it for him and I got an excellent deal on it. The boys and I love board games and we'll enjoy it together.
And then a few minutes later, I apologized for being snappy with him.
Now I look back on that conversation and I realize I didn't need to apologize for having an opinion different than his. I didn't need to apologize for anything.
I have to remind myself that my worth isn't based on the opinion of others and that my husband has strong opinions. I thrive on affirming words, a currency that doesn't come naturally from him. I will say he's gotten much better at this and I've gotten better at asking for it, but we still have a ways to go. Even more than that, my value is in Jesus Christ, my creator, Savior and king.
As I head into my future, I need to bravely lean of God's promises to be with me and lean into his courage. And enjoy the heck out of Pictionary-Man when I get to play it.
Saturday, August 9, 2014
A new griddle
Today marks 11 years married to my sweet husband. I liken our relationship right now to a griddle.
When we married, we received lots of goodies, many of which I barely knew how to use. If you would have told me 11 years ago I would grill pork chops on a griddle so I could cook 8 at a time, I would have laughed. I also wouldn't have known how to do it. Now, I do it without a second thought.
The griddle we received was a basic model and one we registered for. It made pancakes, French toast, grill cheese and pork chops. One day I noticed the nonstick had come off. So, I buttered it well before I would cook something. Aaron noticed the sad look of the griddle and suggested we replace it. I looked around and only saw really fancy models that were expensive and way more than I needed.
And then, one day, a shiny new griddle arrived on my doorstep. He had found the perfect replacement on Amazon for me. My new one is still a basic model, but it's sleeker and totally comes apart which would make it perfect for camping (provided that we have an electrical outlet).
Marriage is like our griddle. We started out with a basic model and were happy with it. When it came time to update the griddle, we did. My analogy breaks down a bit in that I didn't get a new husband when the nonstick wore off my old griddle. But go with me here--the first version of us was good. We were newlyweds, figuring out how to become one. During that time, we worked through expectations, miscommunication and conflict resolution.
An example--just this last Christmas I finally figured out why putting out Christmas lights is super important to me and not a priority to Aaron. Growing up, we always did. He didn't. It took 10 years of marriage for me to figure out why I had to nag Aaron every weekend after Thanksgiving to do something that was really important to me.
I've learned a lot about listening, being that I am a gifted talker but not a gifted listener. I've also learned how to be heard.
Now, we're at a great place together. The boys aren't a cake walk, but they're much easier than they were. Aaron has a job he enjoys and is more rested than he was a few years ago. We have a year of the big boys in school behind us and it went really well. I have a peace that they're going to be OK academically which was a real concern for us with their premature births.
And I like who I am. Motherhood has refined me and softened my hard edges. I'm still a work in progress, but I'm happy with who I am. And my husband loves me more now than he did 11 years ago. And I him.
In our wedding, I remember Dr Brown prayed that we would grow to love each other more each passing year. At the time that seemed an odd thought because the love I felt for him was so big. Little did I know that love grows in beauty with time. The moments of silliness when we laugh together. The serious moments when we open our souls to each other. The painful moments when he holds me when I cry. The mundane moments of eating pork chops at family dinner. The sum of all those parts create something really beautiful and I'm so thankful I get to be a part of it.
Long live marriage!
When we married, we received lots of goodies, many of which I barely knew how to use. If you would have told me 11 years ago I would grill pork chops on a griddle so I could cook 8 at a time, I would have laughed. I also wouldn't have known how to do it. Now, I do it without a second thought.
The griddle we received was a basic model and one we registered for. It made pancakes, French toast, grill cheese and pork chops. One day I noticed the nonstick had come off. So, I buttered it well before I would cook something. Aaron noticed the sad look of the griddle and suggested we replace it. I looked around and only saw really fancy models that were expensive and way more than I needed.
And then, one day, a shiny new griddle arrived on my doorstep. He had found the perfect replacement on Amazon for me. My new one is still a basic model, but it's sleeker and totally comes apart which would make it perfect for camping (provided that we have an electrical outlet).
Marriage is like our griddle. We started out with a basic model and were happy with it. When it came time to update the griddle, we did. My analogy breaks down a bit in that I didn't get a new husband when the nonstick wore off my old griddle. But go with me here--the first version of us was good. We were newlyweds, figuring out how to become one. During that time, we worked through expectations, miscommunication and conflict resolution.
An example--just this last Christmas I finally figured out why putting out Christmas lights is super important to me and not a priority to Aaron. Growing up, we always did. He didn't. It took 10 years of marriage for me to figure out why I had to nag Aaron every weekend after Thanksgiving to do something that was really important to me.
I've learned a lot about listening, being that I am a gifted talker but not a gifted listener. I've also learned how to be heard.
Now, we're at a great place together. The boys aren't a cake walk, but they're much easier than they were. Aaron has a job he enjoys and is more rested than he was a few years ago. We have a year of the big boys in school behind us and it went really well. I have a peace that they're going to be OK academically which was a real concern for us with their premature births.
And I like who I am. Motherhood has refined me and softened my hard edges. I'm still a work in progress, but I'm happy with who I am. And my husband loves me more now than he did 11 years ago. And I him.
In our wedding, I remember Dr Brown prayed that we would grow to love each other more each passing year. At the time that seemed an odd thought because the love I felt for him was so big. Little did I know that love grows in beauty with time. The moments of silliness when we laugh together. The serious moments when we open our souls to each other. The painful moments when he holds me when I cry. The mundane moments of eating pork chops at family dinner. The sum of all those parts create something really beautiful and I'm so thankful I get to be a part of it.
Long live marriage!
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Milking the cow is holy
MOPs sent me this year's theme book about being brave. It's challenging me to step back and look at how bravely (or not bravely) I choose to live my life.
Today's chapter mentioned a Celtic proverb: "Milking the cow is holy." What a beautiful thought. The small, mundane things I do every day are holy. Each day I spend with my family matters. It's so easy to feel like if I'm not doing something extraordinary that it just doesn't matter. How refreshing to be reminded that each task I do matters.
I've had a busy summer. Lots of taking kids to different activities and not much rest. My husband's grandmother passed away suddenly and we were all taken by surprise. We had VBS right before and even though I love VBS, it takes a lot of energy. I've learned that after big energy drains I need to take some time to just rest. Rest wasn't available this time.
Instead of taking the time to journal and rest a bit, I found myself all upset about school starting. I was feeling sad that the time had slipped away. So what did I do? I picked up my sons' rooms, purging toys and getting angry that no one was helping me. When I got to a stopping place, I told my husband I had done the part I don't mind: compling all the stuff into bins and throwing away the stuff that was broken. That felt good. But now, I had to do something with all this stuff. He didn't volunteer to help with this next step but he listened nicely while I told him my elaborate vision: sort all the toys and put them in labelled boxes. Make a check out system so the boys' rooms wouldn't get so out of control as before. He sweetly agreed that was a nice plan.
But I didn't want to do all that work. I had to go to the grocery store and I took along #2. He's my most organized so I told him about my pick up and check out system. He told me it sounded like lots of work and we shouldn't do it. I told him of a friend of ours who uses this system and it works well for them. He wasn't sold. He told me we shouldn't do it. We shopped and returned home where the boxes of various boy toys were on the play room floor where I had left them.
I put away the groceries and went back to my husband to see if he wanted to help sort or organize. He didn't.
And that's when I had my moment of brilliance: I didn't have to do it. Where is the law that says toys have to be organized? Clearly, this wasn't a good fit for us. There's no organization police that will be visiting my home checking to see if our toys are organized.
So, I made a new rule: most of the toys live in the bins in the play room. Boys can have some in their rooms. They need to keep their rooms picked up. The play room needs to stay picked up. They accepted those terms and went back to what they were doing. My house looks much better and all is right with the world.
Today's chapter mentioned a Celtic proverb: "Milking the cow is holy." What a beautiful thought. The small, mundane things I do every day are holy. Each day I spend with my family matters. It's so easy to feel like if I'm not doing something extraordinary that it just doesn't matter. How refreshing to be reminded that each task I do matters.
I've had a busy summer. Lots of taking kids to different activities and not much rest. My husband's grandmother passed away suddenly and we were all taken by surprise. We had VBS right before and even though I love VBS, it takes a lot of energy. I've learned that after big energy drains I need to take some time to just rest. Rest wasn't available this time.
Instead of taking the time to journal and rest a bit, I found myself all upset about school starting. I was feeling sad that the time had slipped away. So what did I do? I picked up my sons' rooms, purging toys and getting angry that no one was helping me. When I got to a stopping place, I told my husband I had done the part I don't mind: compling all the stuff into bins and throwing away the stuff that was broken. That felt good. But now, I had to do something with all this stuff. He didn't volunteer to help with this next step but he listened nicely while I told him my elaborate vision: sort all the toys and put them in labelled boxes. Make a check out system so the boys' rooms wouldn't get so out of control as before. He sweetly agreed that was a nice plan.
But I didn't want to do all that work. I had to go to the grocery store and I took along #2. He's my most organized so I told him about my pick up and check out system. He told me it sounded like lots of work and we shouldn't do it. I told him of a friend of ours who uses this system and it works well for them. He wasn't sold. He told me we shouldn't do it. We shopped and returned home where the boxes of various boy toys were on the play room floor where I had left them.
I put away the groceries and went back to my husband to see if he wanted to help sort or organize. He didn't.
And that's when I had my moment of brilliance: I didn't have to do it. Where is the law that says toys have to be organized? Clearly, this wasn't a good fit for us. There's no organization police that will be visiting my home checking to see if our toys are organized.
So, I made a new rule: most of the toys live in the bins in the play room. Boys can have some in their rooms. They need to keep their rooms picked up. The play room needs to stay picked up. They accepted those terms and went back to what they were doing. My house looks much better and all is right with the world.
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