It's not that I am particularly DISorganized, but I must admit that keeping some parts of my life organized is a real challenge.
One of these areas is my kitchen cabinets and pantry. Let's just say, my spices are NOT alphabetized. An avalanche upon opening a cabinet, an extra big shop at Costco, or my mom finding a few spare minutes are typical catalysts for finally pulling everything out and replacing it neatly, coherently.
And about the time I do actually kick into cleaning mode, it's only because I have discovered not one but seven open boxes of Oreos, or a complete depletion of my baby food supply when the hungry munchkin is already strapped into his high chair and screaming for nourishment.
I reached my wits end the other day when I was halfway through cooking an already late dinner and couldn't find a single can of tomato paste. Tomato paste! Isn't that one of those pantry supplies that you never run out of? That mysteriously multiplies like rabbits when the pantry door is closed? Or is that only my perception because I buy it in big boxes at Costco, only to buy it again two weeks later because my mush brain couldn't remember if I recently bought any or not?
Anyway, I was so annoyed by my lack of ability to find the stuff that despite being in the midst of dinner, I frantically started pulling things out so that the cans - and I - could regroup.
At some point Tadpole and Tigger wandered over to grab a few carrots off my chopping board and casually ask what I was doing. Knowing how my kids LOVE to help, I thought carefully about my response. I wanted to do it myself for the sake of organization and efficiency, so I simply stated, "Reorganizing. It's a very important Mommy job."
They didn't bat around my words, just left. Perhaps I looked a bit crazed and scared them off.
Dinner finished, boys in bed, I still had a mess on my countertops... but stuck to task, replacing everything in the pantry neatly (yes, found the tomato paste), and smiled in satisfaction at the small victory I just won over my chaotic pantry. It was worth the time and effort.
Until the next day, when I disappeared into the bathroom briefly to slap on some make up, and returned to discover two of my little helpers reorganizing my pantry. To their standards, of course, not mine. Apparently they thought they were doing a very important job in helping me.
Which begs the question: why do I bother?