I'll start a blog!!!

Have you read The Martian by Andy Weir? If not, you totally should. Its seriously a really good book. Today I am identifying with the main character.

"I am fucked.

That's my considered opinion.

Fuck."

(Oh, I should have warned you. This blog is definitely not kid friendly).

So this morning I went in to check in with dude's teacher because we've been having some meltdown problems at home. Turns out he's having some organizational problems. Four days into school and he's having organizational problems. Not a big deal, right? Easily fixable with folders and pencil cases and sticky notes, and a really cute cricut label (because why the hell not? I love pinterest as much as the next sahm). Easy peasy, mac and cheesy! Except it's totally not. I am not the organized goddess that, from what I can tell, every single one of my friends and family members are. I'm nowhere close to organized. I'd go so far as to say I'm downright unorganized and if I'm honest, I'm even messy. I looked for 4 hours yesterday for the chequebook and a half an hour for my wallet! I wish that was the exception rather than the norm. But normal it is! You better hope I never put anything of yours in my safe place, because I swear to God, that safe place is in the bowels of the balrog. Once it goes into said safe place it doesn't come out for a good year or two. So dude is having organizational problems. I wanted to melt into the floor because I KNOW exactly whose fault that is.

Now, I know there's a reason for it. There's a ton of reasons for it actually. This family is awesome if you're looking for someone to come up with a "what if I need it for blah" story. We tend to take our downtime pretty seriously. We all have things we have a tiny bit of unhealthy attachments to things. And that's just the start!

I struggle with my health, both mentally and physically. I hurt all the fucking time. I'm always feeling overwhelmed. I am awesome at deluding myself that the disorganization is not that bad. And straight up, I'm not sure I was done having kids when I decided I was done having kids. So letting go of baby and kids stuff is damn near impossible.

So what's the result? We live in a house. That house has stuff in it. It has rather a lot of stuff in it. It has way too much stuff in it. And something.has.to.change.

How the hell does this change? I keep walking into my kitchen thinking it's a good place to start. Hoo boy! Walk away walk away walk away!!!! Living room? Dear God woman! Are you insane?! (Actually yes, but that's another post). Definitely not the hall. Not even under consideration. Definitely not the office. The master bedroom? .....maybe? Oh! I could purge more from the kids room that I just purged and redecorated. Oh right, emotional attachments.

So......yeah. In my considered opinion I am fucked.
Oh! I know! I'll start a blog!