There comes a point in the “move in” process where you sort of just give up and some of your boxes blend in to your everyday life. I mean, who needs an end table when you have a box sitting right there? I don’t know why Pottery Barn doesn’t showcase more cardboard furniture.
Our garage has been the epicenter of moving chaos and it was driving me nuts. We finally asked one of Rick’s aunts to come help us with the kids so we could try to plow through it and organize it. I basically put a moratorium on all spending (besides necessities like food, mortgage payments, candy and wine) until we cleaned it out.
And we did it. It took hours but we got it done. It was such a relief to walk through there and not being clobbered by a falling baby gate or gardening hoe. And no, I don’t garden.
I knew my kids were going to be very excited to see it all organized and get easy access to their bikes and scooters. As soon as they got home from school, I asked…
“So what do you think of the garage?”
“Did you do something to it?” asked Dylan.
Hmm… well, maybe she’s not my most observant kid.
I decided to focus on Summer. “Summer, do you love the garage now?”
“When are you going to clean it out?” she responded.
Okay. Surely, I could count on my 3-year-old twins.
“Do you guys like the garage?” I asked.
They both proceeded to tell me they did not want carrots with their dinner that night.
“Rick, the kids could care less about the garage. Doesn’t it make you happy to see it all neat and organized?”
“Honey, whatever makes you happy, makes me happy.” That is code for, “I really don’t give a shit. Please don’t make me clean out another room.”
So I finally turned to the man who would understand…
“Dad, how good does the garage look?”
“Terrific! I noticed it immediately,” he responded.
Now that’s the kind of support and encouragement I need.