Organised Or Tidy?

A month or so ago I went to a de-cluttering workshop. It was quite interesting and worthwhile. So I thought I would share some of my thoughts about it. 

I've alluded to the fact before that I struggle with housework and organisation. However, I'm trying to be somewhat better at it.  Or, at least, as good as I'll ever be.

The workshop was held by my local council. There was a professional organiser who spoke for about two hours. Her name was Susanne Thiebe. You can visit her website here and her Facebook page here. 

One of the most interesting things I picked up was that de-cluttering, organising, tidying and cleaning are all completely different things. This should seem obvious, but to a scatter brain like me it was a revelation.

In fact, you could say I had a bit of a light bulb moment. I realised that while I am not tidy, (and probably never will be) I'm relatively organised. Or, at least much more organised than I originally believed. 

Now, I'm not saying that I'm organised in quite the same you may be. My version of organised probably looks like a horse's arse or dog's breakfast (or insert whatever hot mess you can think of) to the more anal efficient among us. 

However, I have to take into account the fact that I am an Aspie. This means that I struggle with executive function issues. Additionally I believe I have ADD.

Therefore I'm a person with ASD and ADD who is in charge of running a very small house with five people living in it. You could also argue that all five of us have varying degrees of ADD-like personality traits, plus a tendency to be borderline hoarders.

Not to the point where we need to climb over all the clutter or require a massive intervention, but still... we have semi hoarding tendencies. But I've always told myself it's NOT hoarding if it's books...ahem...

Anyway my point is, I now believe that I'm reasonably organised when all this is taken into account and I'm not comparing with others. 

The analogy that was used in the workshop to demonstrate how tidy and organised are two different things was this: 

If you have a bucket or crate full of shoes sitting in your front hallway, is it tidy or is it organised? 

The answer: it depends.  For some it would be neither. For a family who is always looking for their kids shoes, if it works and they can find them there most of the time; it's organised. Not particularly tidy, but organised. 

Another example Susanne gave was of her own mother. She explained that she uses her coffee machine two or three times day. Every single time, she cleans it and puts it away in a cupboard, only to have to lug it out again. See? Tidy, but not organised. 

She also voiced something I've thought in the back of my mind for many years: the lifestyle programmes (Better Homes & Gardens, The Living Room etc) do as much damage to our minds as looking at the supermodels in fashion or women's magazines.

Realistically you know that the model is a freak of nature to start with. Furthermore the images are retouched. But there's still that little part of you thinking: but wouldn't it be great to look like that? 

Likewise with lifestyle programmes. We're all seduced into thinking that our homes should always look like the homes we see on these shows.

According to her, (and she is an industry insider) these de-cluttering 'gurus' have a team working with them.When a segment is filmed it often takes input from the entire team and a good week (at least) of work. This is all edited into a neat little nine minute segment where we see before and after shots.

The infamous KonMari Method was also brought up during the session. This is a de-cluttering method that was invented by Marie Kondo. I had borrowed her book  The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up from the library and started reading it the day before I attended the session. I was trying really hard to keep an open mind about it, hoping to give the method a red hot go.

But only a few chapters in I was already beginning to see flaws in it. I know there's a whole community of eager converts who'll heartily disagree with me. I suspect there's a reason I never make any mum friends. Or any friends, really. Sigh. 

First of all, Susanne pointed out that Marie Kondo is a Japanese woman with no children. (Although a quick glance at her wiki page reveals that she does have one child). The simple fact of the matter is, the more people that live in your home the more stuff there will be and the more mess. In saying that, it doesn't mean that I totally give up and raise my children in squalor. But it does mean that any expectations of gleaming white perfection are unrealistic. For me.

Truth be told I'm not a fan (of gleaming white perfection) anyway. We visited some exhibition homes recently and I honestly didn't like all the bright shinyness. I don't know if it's a Ness thing or an ASD thing. but it makes me seasick and headachey.  Anyway, I digress. 

Secondly, some of the Konmari advice is a tad dubious. The idea is that you keep only the things that 'spark joy'.  The thing is, my boys passion for Lego has never particularly sparked any joy for me. But it does for them. So whose joy are we supposed to spark?

Plus, apparently when you're de-cluttering you're supposed to not tell your family or let them see. How does that work? They live here. Suffice to say, I don't quite get it. But considering that this book and method is a sensation and all the rage at the moment, I guess I'm the weird one. Oh well, nothing new there...

Moving on from the Konmari Method...

Another notable piece of advice during the workshop was that storage systems/solutions WILL NOT make you organised.

We were told DO NOT go out and buy more containers/stationery/pretty bits and pieces thinking they're the answer. Also don't buy any of the books out there on the subject.

Just like the Konmari method, a lot of these books are written by people in different circumstances and cultures than we have. For example, Americans typically have basements and attics which are generally not a thing in the majority of Australian homes. 

We were given an information booklet covering these areas: 

A) START

B) DE-CLUTTER

C) TIME MANAGEMENT

D) ORGANISE

E) KEEP GOING-HOW TO STAY MOTIVATED

F) THROW

G) GIVE

H) AVOID

I) MAINTAIN


You can find out more about these workshops and where you can attend one over here. This is not sponsored at all, I just found it interesting and thought others might as well. 

Meanwhile, I suppose I had better actually take some of the advice and JUST START!

Right, I'm off to shift some stuff! 


Linking up for IBOT. 


What do you think?

Are you tidy or organised? Or both?

Do you believe they are different things? 

Do you have any de-cluttering tips? 

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My whole life is a domestic disaster

A peculiar sensation has come over me. I wonder what it is? Something so unfamiliar I cannot define it. I have to think about it before it unfolds in my mind. Yes, that's it. I'm smug.

I ticked off a list. That is HUGE. For me. I'm scatterbrained.

It seems to be a curious dichotomy about me that I crave order and routine, but am thoroughly inept and incompetent at actually creating at. Weird. 

I needn't have been so smug. Predictably my foray into organisation didn't last. And even when I have ticked these lists there is no discernible evidence of activity in my surroundings. My home still looks haphazard and sloppy. Sigh. 

This week I've looked into various organisational apps including  FlyLady, Habitica. Evernote and Todoist.

I was determined that the time had come when I would finally morph into a Domestic Goddess. With a capital D and a capital G.

Or maybe not. But that's okay, because what I lack in housekeeping skills I more than make up for in poetry writing skills. Yep, I'm poetic GENIUS. 

Here's proof: 

I need to have a schedule, a rythym, a routine
Make my home a sanctuary, immaculate, pristine

After all, I hear you say, you don't have an office job
You've no excuse for being such a lackadaisical slob

But, I reply, my house is frightfully pokey and tiny!
I glower and pout, all whingey and whiney

Before you judge me, why don't you do the math?
Don't patronise me with your presumptuous wrath

Residents total five, but rooms only seven
Hardly anyone's idea of domestic heaven

We live here in CHAOS*, clutter, confusion
Where 'Better Homes & Gardens' is just an illusion

And yes, I really must confess, it does cause stress
To live in pandemonium, such a muddled-up mess

But it seems that I'm a freak without the neat part
I want to clean it up, but don't know where to start

It's simple, you say, you have to make a list
Then tick it off, forget your daily Facebook tryst

Dutifully I write it down, commence the first task
It's tedious, time-consuming, school hours fly by fast

When the day is done there seems to be no reward
I'm grumpy, dissatisfied and frankly terminally bored

Snap out of it, you say, don't get into a tizzy
A dedicated Domestic Goddess must always keep busy

With my tears of anguish I slowly wash the dishes
The suds go down the sink along with all my wishes

Wishes for a gleaming home, all shiny and new
Lots of lovely, pretty things, a dishwasher too

Look, you say, all you need is a trip to Ikea
This is as appealing to me as explosive diarrhoea

But there's no time to waste, I have to cook dinner
Now's my chance to prove that I'm a culinary winner!

When I look inside the fridge my expression turns wary
Judging from it's contents I expect the dinner Fairy

Tsk, tsk, you admonish, don't you understand?
You should always have this sorted, make a meal plan!

Then get your children involved, everyone must help!
My kitchen is as big as a postage-stamp, I holler and yelp 

Ignoring your disdain, I defiantly order take-away
Getting out of bed was my biggest mistake today

Sure, I could have put some soup on and left it to simmer
But the chance of it being  eaten? Not even a glimmer! 

I should have tried harder, worked longer and faster
It seems MY WHOLE LIFE is a domestic disaster! 

Before long it's time to go bed and admit defeat
So I can get up and do all again. Rinse. Repeat. 

It's something that is terribly difficult to explain
It's not my fault that I have a typical Aspie brain

I struggle with something called executive function
Forgetting absolutely everything expect to have my luncheon

Now I sit here still feeling dejected and forlorn
I want a clean house, but I'm constantly torn

Somehow I never achieve anything no matter how I slog
For now I say forget it, I'd much rather write this blog! 

You're welcome. 


*CHAOS = Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome

Side note: as I'm about to hit publish on this post, my house is actually surprisingly tidy (for me). So I've got about a half hour window for anyone to drop in right now. Oh wait. It's school pick up time. The boys will be home shortly. CHAOS again! Oh well, I tried! 

Linking up (late!) for I Must Confess

What is your biggest domestic disaster?

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A Continuing Theme

Those of you who have read my previous post may remember my description of my blogging style as being rather ad hoc. Therefore, it will probably come as no surprise to you when I reveal that my parenting style is, *coughs*..somewhat similar. Using the phrase 'somewhat similar' in the sense of EXACTLY THE SAME. Ahem...

But aren't we all just making this shit up as we go? Or is that just me?

Before I had children of my own, I had such lofty, ridiculous ideas of what a perfect mother was like.  For the record, Mr 5 informed me on Saturday evening that I AM one. A perfect Mum. I guess that settles it. Oh, and it involves giving them hot dogs for dinner and putting Scooby Doo on the telly, just in case you were doing it wrong. You're welcome.

My pre-children lofty ideals involved nothing of the kind. Sigh.

There is probably a reason why I was so deluded. Until I had children of my own at age 30, I really had little to no experience of being around babies or children. Except for being around a younger cousin or two, and perhaps nursing them now and again, absolutely nothing. I never babysat or really spent any time being a full-time carer of a child or children.

I was so judgemental of other parents. If I heard a child having a tanty in a shopping centre I would be the first person to roll my eyes in scorn. My children would never behave like that! If I saw somebody feeding an infant commercially prepared baby foods, I'd shudder. How hard could it be to puree  home made mush?

I have always been a shy, quiet and introverted person. I also have an official diagnosis of Asperger's Syndrome. This happened at age 40, three years ago. Somehow I did vaguely realise that my extreme need for solitude and quiet time would be a challenge for me once I had kidlets. However, I still wanted them. I figured I'd probably have two children at the most and that they would most likely be quiet little bookworms like me. Wrong.

My boys are quite articulate and love a good chat, particularly Mr 10. They're not shy and say whatever they think without reserve. They also make me laugh constantly, which is a plus. On the flip side,  there are heated arguments and rivalry. This means constant noise and attempts to smooth things over and restore peace.

I also didn't realise that having children meant remembering stuff. A LOT of stuff. Like their names. I mean, there's a reason I call all three of them 'honeybunch'. Shut up. It beats constantly tripping over their respective names until I hit the right one.

Don't get me wrong, I love my boys passionately. I'm the kind of mother who can hug her children and say 'I love you' a million times a day, but on a practical level I'm sadly lacking. I couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery, as the saying goes. I'm also extremely ad hoc regarding routines. Even when I have managed to sustain a good habit, such as exercising everyday, I don't have a routine. I just do it whenever, at different times of the day.

I suck big sweaty balls when it comes to time management and multi-tasking. I'm constantly off with the pixies, so I suddenly snap out of my little world and realise it's dinner time when my stomach starts growling. Somehow, I'm quite astonished that the Dinner Fairies haven't arrived. I realise with a start that I'm the one whose supposed to be wearing the fairy wings and tiara. This is my job. 


 
When I do try to plan in advance and write lists, I'm STILL quite capable of forgetting essential stuff on the list. Alternatively,  I'll end up forgetting to take the list. This means that I'll try to rely on my dodgy memory and become confused about which ingredients I needed for which recipe. Plus, I agonise over making decisions about the simplest thing, so I don't really like grocery shopping. I tend to just randomly chuck things in to avoid this pointless indecisiveness and then end up buying way to much crap.

By the time I've lugged all the crap home I'm too overwhelmed to cook, anyway. I find cooking for a family everyday a chore and somewhat stressful, instead of the relaxing ritual it seems to be for some people. So I stick to the most basic, boring meals of meat and veg, or salad, spaghetti bolognase or roasts. Sometimes (okay, a lot of the time) I cheat and buy a cooked chook to have with salad or just order take-away. Then, I feel guilty that I'm bringing my boys up on crap.

I'm constantly going on at my boys about picking up after themselves, but the truth is, I'm just as disorganised and messy. At least I've got hypocrisy down to a fine art. Winning!

Unfortunately, Mr 13 seems to have inherited my tendency to forgetfulness. He forgets and leaves things at school, such as his sport uniform. Then I forget to ask him when I pick him up. I end up feeling sorry for him because I suspect a lot of 13 year olds are similar, except they have a mother who's got all that shit covered. On the positive side he also has a good heart and a sense of humour and I'd like to think he got some of that from me too, so it's not all bad.

When it comes to teaching my boys organisational skills, I may as well attempt to teach them how to speak fluent Japanese. NO FUCKING IDEA IN HELL.

I rarely talk about my Assburgers Asperger's here as I fear it will sound like me whinging and whining as weepy violin music swells in the background. I realise it's not a death sentence and I'm not in a wheel chair. This is the one of the best things about it and yet at the same time somewhat frustrating. Just because people can't see anything debilitating on the surface, that doesn't mean that I don't have genuine struggles.

The shrink (I say shrink because it's easier to spell) who diagnosed me assured me that some women on the spectrum that she sees are sometimes quite austere and don't like to show affection, not even to their children. She added that from a psychologist's (did I spell it right?) point of view this (showing love and affection) is much more important than routines and a spotless home. I cling to those words everyday. She may have just been trying to make me feel better but it's all I've got, so don't rain on my parade, okay?

So yes, my boys may always live in CHAOS*, but there will also be cuddles!  LOTS of cuddles. And cakies! Let's not forget about those. As if I could. Shut up.

* CHAOS stands for Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome. I read this on somebody else's blog, but am unable to remember whose. So if I stole it from you, sorry! But I did mention my memory issues. Erm...what was I saying?

Are you a forgetful person?

Do you ever feel like a hypocrite?

Linking up for I Must Confess and Laugh Link

And a VERY belated link up with The Lounge.

 No, I didn't forget, I just have dodgy internet connection. Outta here.....
 

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Winging It

 Another Monday has rolled inconveniently around. They have a tendency to do that, the rude things. I must confess that my brain feels like cotton wool this morning even post coffee, so this post will most likely sound like meandering gibberish. Which is quite similar to most of my posts really. Consistency is important. 

Over the weekend Mr 9 became Mr 10. He had a bowling party which he enjoyed. I must confess that that I find the wall of noise in those places quite challenging. I've only just got my hearing back. However, I'd find organising a party at home even more challenging. Couldn't organise a piss up in brewery. Or a meat raffle in a butcher's. Or an orgy at a nymphomaniac convention.  You get the picture. 

With this in mind, I decided to finally get with the 21st century and purchase a new phone so that I could start using the calendars and reminders and things to help me become more organised. Shut up. It could happen. I could possibly even take a selfie for the first time EVER. I know - I haven't even LIVED. Apparently people can't possibly live these days unless they take selfies every 17 seconds and photograph their food before they eat it, so that's how I've come to the conclusion that I haven't lived. 

However, I must confess that I STILL haven't worked out how to use the contraption. I did point the  thing at my face thinking I'd take a selfie and recoiled in utter horror. Do I REALLY look like that? I think there is a reason I've never taken one. Nobody needs to see that. 

In other scintillating news I had my first tit crushing experience last week which was quite painful bracing. I have to admit to being a big scardey cat and feeling quite anxious about it. But it was over with in a jiffy. As they say, Mammogramming your boobs is more important than Instagramming them. Not that there is any danger of me doing that. I can't even Instagram my face let alone my National Geographics. But yes - PETRIFIED before hand. You'd think nothing would scare you anymore after experiencing childbirth, right? WRONG.

Especially since experiencing childbirth usually means you now have children. Which is scary. Because you worry about them all the time. I must confess that after watching this report about a paedophile ring and all the media coverage about the Daniel Morcombe case recently that I've felt sickened and horrified. It makes me question all humanity and the wisdom of blogging at all. Sigh. 

Now I need to mention cake again quickly just to lighten the mood. CAKE. There, that's better. Yes, I did have a lovely cake filled weekend because of Mr 10's birthday and Micky Blue Eyes loading up with a few cakes from an old favourite cake shop we hadn't been to in years. He isn't helping my addiction. He is furthering it. I knew I married him for a reason. 

Anyway, it appears that there is a mountain of washing awaiting me to be put away so I had better end this gibberish here and get on with it. 

Later dudes. 

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess. 

                                      What is on your mind on this fine Monday morning?

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