It dawned on me the other day I’ve been particularly cranky lately about keeping the house cleaned up. I’ve pretty much been badgering the kids, making the come back to whatever they’ve left out to clean up after themselves. I even made a honey-do list for Spouse – which was successful, by the way; he did everything on the list but one. The herd have been looking at me like I’ve lost my mind completely, demanding every little thing be put in its place.
We have been so busy lately, with adjusting to a new routine, new dance schedule, adding golf lessons in, and so on. There is so much which is not within my control, and that is what makes me feel frustrated, short-tempered, frantic. I’m not good when there are too many things out of my control. It makes me twitchy. I realized, in response to that lack of control, I am over-controlling that which I can. Having order in the house makes me feel a little better.
I remember doing this as a kid, particularly in my teens. I was a fanatic neat-freak, even about my appearance. If I kept very tight control of how I looked, how my room looked, how my locker and my car looked, and my grades, I could almost deal with the things beyond my control. If I let those balls drop, I was completely incapable of dealing.
It is exhausting trying to keep this level of order, for me and for those around me. I know I need it right now, or at least I feel I do. When the outside issues, those things beyond my management, settle down, the need for complete order will settle down. Trust me, I know it’s wonky. I know I’m a hot mess. I’m working on it. Those plastic cups are about to be tossed out.