Just a couple weeks ago I talked about how I like my stuff arranged in certain configurations; kitchen items, towels, community-use types of things. I often struggle to get my family to comply, but with five of us living here, my efforts are usually met with a lackadaisical attitude.
After awhile I stop nagging. It takes more energy to make them comply then to either leave it in its sloppy appearance or move it myself. After all, we’re just going to use it again.
But I think my family needs an intervention.
Right before my youngest daughter’s best friend moved in to finish her senior year, I had reorganized and purged my kitchen cupboards. I love collecting ceramic ware and much of it is displayed in the kitchen’s garden window that looks out over my backyard. One of my favorite domestic activities is to wash pots and pans while I observe my unique collection and the birds that gather in my yard hunting worms.
When my daughter’s friend moved in with us, she brought a cute little teapot with matching cups (we gave them to her for her 18th birthday). I adjusted, because it’s just a teapot and I’m not going to be blamed for not being flexible. However, I soon noticed a couple more mugs I didn’t recognize.
After that the flood began. Part of it was my fault because I saw a really cute character cup at a store in Long Beach and texted my youngest daughter about it. She wanted it, but because I offered to buy her a mug, I also had to offer to buy the other two girls one.
Our new daughter wanted a clunky Sponge Bob mug, my oldest said, “I don’t use mugs. I don’t need one.” By that time my youngest had changed her mind to a smaller Doctor Who mug, which I’m forever grateful, because the one I initially showed her was rather cumbersome.
I guess I opened some sort of mug portal, as now we seem to be inundated with mugs. Every time I turn around, there’s a new mug.
The once organized, pleasant, garden window has become a jumbled array of colors, shapes and sizes. Every child has gotten a new mug or two from a friend for Christmas. Even my oldest, the one who claimed she didn’t use such devices, got one in the shape of an owl and she loves it.
I’m not sure what to do to get my Zen view back. I find myself counting the days until the younger two graduate from high school and maybe go off to college. I’m pushing a little harder at my older daughter to get a job that pays enough for her school loans, car payment and rent on an apartment. So what if it’s a dive. Would she have access to electricity to plug in a quick-boiling pot? That would be my only requirement.
The younger two have changed their minds about going off to a four-year college right away, so I’m thinking they should start paying rent, get themselves a hot plate and turn their large room into an apartment. Then they could take their mugs with them; even if it is only to the other end of the house. At least I wouldn’t have to look at them anymore.
I’m thinking of purging some of my older ceramic ware I don’t use often, just to make more space. But why must I be the one to sacrifice? They could use their mugs as pen holders or useful pots kept in their own rooms, away from the sanctity of my garden window.
We definitely need a mug intervention.
Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can read more of her writing and her daily blog on her website livingwithgleigh.com, on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh.”or follow her on Twitter @livewithgleigh. Her column is available every week at maplevalleyreporter.com under the Lifestyles section.
