Discombobulated

I can tell when I’m feeling out of sorts or anxious about something, I start cleaning. If I’m at home, the kitchen or bathrooms will get it. If I’m at work, my desk gets it. Today I came in, grabbed the secure shredding bin and wheeled it to my desk. I went through the filing on my shelves, my filing cabinet drawer and purged. I’ve been doing it a lot lately. I’m trying to let go of something, I wish I knew what it was, but I’m sure when we’ve packed for the move and I’ve gone through everything and ended up with epic trash, donate and sell piles, I’ll feel happier. I know I will feel happier when we’ve moved out from a house with damp in it too!

The past month or so I’ve been watching Consumed on Living, I ended up series linking it as it was fascinating. It is a Canadian show, and the host is hard-core, she is an organisational expert, but she makes families living with practically nothing for a month. At the end of 30 days, they visit a warehouse where all the rest of their belongings are laid out in front of them, they then sort through, working out what they actually need. To help them get through the 30 days, the families can have 10 luxury items, it’s interesting to see how many don’t want the TV on the list.

The TV, it sure does eat your time up doesn’t it? I’ve deleted umpteen shows over the past week. Our hard drive was filling up, and when in reality am I going to find 20odd hours to watch a series? The past few days in the morning I conducted an experiment on Peanut too. I put CBeebies on while I charged around the house getting ready to leave for work. In five days, he’s begun to sit there like a robot. Five days! Needless to say, I won’t be doing it next week! He’s more than capable of amusing himself already, he potters about the house getting into everything, he’ll sit down and look through books and play with his toys. If that isn’t entertaining enough, he’ll then start opening cupboards, drawers, the bin, anything he can to investigate what is in them, our house is now a buffet of child-proofing materials. Investigate is not too strong a word either. He turns things over in his hands, looks at them intently, eats them, if he decides they’re not to his liking, he discards them over his right shoulder. He does the same when he’s finished eating, he hangs his right hand out over his chair and drops his food on the floor, looking at you and grinning at the same time.

Anyhoo, I digress. I would quite happily not have a TV in the house full stop. We don’t have one in the bedroom, and won’t have one in Peanut’s room as he gets older either. While I quite like ironing to a Miss Marple and was quite happy to sit down and watch a Midsommer Murder that I’d not seen after a hard day the other week, after the news is over and done with, if there’s nothing on, I wish we’d switch it off, as it just sucks time out your day. Trying to prise Hubs off the couch when he’s sat down is nearly impossible at times. ‘I’m tired.’ Well so am I, but Peanut’s bottles need washing, lunch needs to be got ready and the last time I looked, we were responsible adults, not students living in a squat, so let’s keep the house nice shall we? (Vent over) We’ve so much to do to get ready for the next day, it’s all too easy to park your arse on the couch and not move, staring vacantly at a box in the corner. I then have to either run around like a lunatic immediately before bed which wakes me right up again; or in the morning, when I’m trying to leave as early as possible so I can get home as early as possible.

My life now revolves around getting home to be with my son (and Hubs obvs – ahem) and enjoying his (their) company, playing with him and reading to him. I don’t want to spend any more time away from him than I am, it’s hard enough as it is. Maybe that’s what is upsetting me? If we move that far out, he’ll be in a nursery near home, but instead of being 10 minutes’ drive away, I’ll be a minimum of 35 minutes’ drive away.

What I am hoping for is a smoother life, living well with less stuff. I binned a load of cinema and theatre tickets the other day, beer mats and other bits of paper I’d been hanging on to. I didn’t need to keep them to remember, the memories are inside me, yes they were a prompt, but why am I keeping them? So in a few years’ time my son can look through a box and wonder why his mother kept a cinema stub? I’ve gone through my clothes again, my books are being sorted as I re-pack them. The kitchen stuff that we used before we had Nellie (Thermomix) has gone to a colleague at work that is setting up his house. Gradually I’m getting lighter and lighter.

But still, I’m wanting to clean, there is definitely something that needs to get out. Anyone else feel out of sorts in the same way? By tidying, cleaning and straightening up around the house, my brain switches off, starts to realign, solves problems on its’ on and I get little a-ha! moments all over the place. Hubs is out at the football tonight, so when the wee man is in bed, I can potter around to my heart’s content. I’m also getting my hair did tomorrow, that always helps lift and improve my mood.

Thirty-seven years old, and inside I feel like a teenager. When do you grow up? We found some photos of Hubs as a little boy last month. Looking through them, Hubs found a picture of him grinning from ear to ear holding two biscuits, “One for each hand!”, he remembers it so clearly, he can remember the picture being taken. He was about 4 years old. If you can think back with that clarity over thirty odd years, is it any wonder we bump and stumble through life? When you were a child you thought your parents were so wise, now I have a son of my own, I recognise that I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. We just put this façade on of playing at being an adult, and hope we don’t get found out. (This is a whole other blog post that I want to expand on that I’ve got rattling around in my head.) Until then, I’ll just straighten some more paper and try and figure out what I’m doing.

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