Spencer and I had a conversation last night about a girl in his class who has a messy desk. Spencer is a very organized, neat child. Messes stress him out. He was anxious about this girl who just takes her stuff and "shoves it in." What's wrong with her, he wants to know.
What Spencer doesn't know is that he is being raised by that girl. I am her.
I had the messiest desk ever. My desk in third grade was so messy that my teacher, Mrs. Mott, dumped it out on the floor and made me clean all my stuff up in front of the entire class. Papers went everywhere. Pens, pencils and crayons rolled away like they were trying to flee the scene. I wanted to melt into my chair. It was a horrible experience for a 9 year old to endure. Mrs. Mott didn't like me anyway and was probably secretly happy about dumping that desk. Turns out she held my messiness against Anna too and made her 3rd grade experience a living nightmare.
I'm sure that Mrs. Mott was trying to teach me, in her warped way, to be more organized and productive and I wish I could say it was a turning point in my life. I wish.
My locker in high school was so stinky that I never got my total locker deposit back at the end of each year. They kept the $5 to, I assume, fumigate.
I continue to be messy and unorganized. My method of organizing is shove the crap in the (cupboard, drawer, under the couch, garage, closet, under the bed, freezer, van) and if the door closes, SUCCESS! All you need is for the door to close. Sometimes you might have to shove and shove to get that door to close, but my motto is never give up. You will get it. Just keep trying.
Last night, I told Spencer to be nice to that girl. Mommy is a little unorganized, I said. He offered to teach me how to be organized. Tonight he is starting with a binder. Let's hope he's not using the Mrs.
The perspective I choose
7 hours ago