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Monday, October 13, 2008

It's the most horrible time of the year

As soon as I typed the title to the post this started playing in my head. Good grief.


Anyway, this isn't technically the most horrible time of the year. There are technically two most horrible times. One comes in the spring and the other in the fall. I despise these times. I procrastinate and make excuses to avoid these times, but eventually, like all unsavory happenings, they have to be dealt with.


It's ironic, though, as fall is actually my favorite season. The weather is gorgeous -- the leaves are changing, the temperature is warm with just a hint of a chill, the air has the subtle taste of smoke from some one's fireplace. Lovely. Fall is also sort of a gateway season. October has Halloween, and from there it is just a hop, skip, and a jump from Thanksgiving to Christmas to New Years. The gorgeous weather tinged with the beginning of anticipation of fun to come -- this is why I love fall.


So if I love fall so much why is this the most horrible time of the year? This is why:





I hate, hate hate going through the kids' closets when the seasons change. The kids are close enough in age and build that nearly EVERYTHING can be passed down. Over the years I've learned that if I don't have a process in place, I tend to lose track of things. And then find them when they are no longer useful. And that is unacceptable.


I have a process in place, but it takes forever. And it is painful for everyone involved. Here is how it works:


-Sort through closets and drawers.

-Pitch clothes that are too small and can't be passed down into one pile.

-Pitch dirty clothes that somehow got put back into the drawer in another pile.

-Get crabby because you can't believe they'd put dirty clothes in their drawer.

-Pitch clothes that can be passed down into yet another pile.

-Pitch clothes that might still fit in 6 months into still another pile.

-Marvel at all the piles.

-Remember that it isn't actually winter yet, and pull out clothing that can be worn over the next few, transitional weeks.

-Decide to pull boxes of hand-me-downs from top of closet -- even though you can barely reach them -- even though you should probably get something to stand on.

-Nearly cause youngest daughter bodily harm when you lose control of a large box of clothes.

-Transform into Super Mom as you dramatically yell for your daughter to save herself.

-Sacrifice your body by lunging over her so that the box bounces off of your back and crashes into the basket of play food. Ouch.

-Vow to get a step ladder next time.

-Realize there is a pattern of being maimed by plastic storage boxes, and wonder what it means.

-Survey damage - plastic clothes box is broken. Toy basket that used to hold play food needs to be replaced.

-Summon slightly shaken daughter to begin trying on clothes to see what fits and what doesn't.

-Start a mental list of what this child needs vs. what we actually have.

-Smile insincerely as daughter dances around the room with shirt stuck on her head.

-Yank pants off of child's legs as she rolls around on the floor whining about trying on pants.

-Smile evilly inside your head when she says "Ow! My foot was caught in there."

-Lose another ounce of sanity

-Tell daughter that she is welcome to go to school naked or in clothes 2 sizes too small. Because that is what is going to happen if she does not try these bleeping pants on right now.

-Start deep breathing exercises to keep from pulling hair out.

-Stagger through this process four times.

-Realize that you should have kept a written, versus mental, list of what you need for each child. The day is shot and details are fuzzy.

-Survey complete and utter destruction. There are piles in the hallway. Clothes are everywhere. Chaos reigns.

-Concede that the task can not be conquered in a single day.

-Curse loudly and descriptively at the thought of another day tainted by the most horrible time of the year



Mission Accomplished

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

NICELY DONE. WISH I WAS THERE.

aGibby said...

OMG, that is so me! I have 2 daughters, ages 7 and 4, so I know I have to pack away the 7-year-olds for future use. And same thing about transition clothes. As soon as I pack away all tank tops and shorts, it will be 80 degrees for a week straight. Arrrggg, I hate it, too! Which is why I haven't done it yet this season!